


Wolfbann

by Ayanon



Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternative Fritz/Varg route, F/M, Illustrated, Spoilers for Fritz' Route, the fanfic branches from there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayanon/pseuds/Ayanon
Summary: After her mother's death Lucette struggles to deal with the powers of the Tenebrarum. Chaos breaks out in Angielle as the throne is usurped. To make matters worse, something seems to have changed about Fritz' curse. Now Varg isn't the only wolf anymore...





	1. Godfather Death

**Author's Note:**

> For more art (including comics), please visit  
> [my blog](https://dazelikesmm.tumblr.com/)  
> [Wolfbann Art only](http://sta.sh/218xa4kqdiv5)

Lucette had not expected that they could leave without being detected. It had been too easy: the sudden appearance of Jurien and Garlan and the secret passage that was supposed to get them out of the palace. She did not know how long they had been running along the stone corridor, the only noise coming from the hollow sound of their steps echoing from the walls. Her legs were beginning to go numb.  
"Watch out!" Garlan called.

  
Jurien jumped back as an explosion shook the hallway. Garlan reacted instantly, holding Lucette by the shoulders to prevent her from falling. Lucette blinked furiously; the smoke was making her eyes water. A figure slowly emerged from the smoke and approached them.  
"Lucette," Hildyr said.

  
Mother. Lucette had always thought she knew the meaning of the word – now she wasn't sure anymore.  
"I didn't want to believe Mythros when he told me that you were trying to escape, but here you are."

  
Jurien and Garlan had drawn their swords but didn't move. Hildyr just stood there and watched them, a slight smile on her lips. For a few seconds no one said a word.  
“Out of the way,” Jurien growled.  
Hildyr tilted her head. “I recognize you. I thought I was rid of Alcaster's little pests.”  
“We are not working for him any longer,” Jurien stated coolly.

Hildyr chuckled.  
“No, you have changed allegiances, haven't you? Some things never change, though.” Hildyr waved a hand. “You are still the mistress, keeping her lap dog close to her side.”  
Garlan's lips twitched.  
“What did you call him?" Jurien scowled.

Hildyr feigned ignorance.  
“Is it not true? He follows you like a lost puppy. _Come_ , Garlan. _Sit_ , Garlan. _Good boy, Garlan_.”

Jurien bared her teeth. “Shut your mouth!”  
“Jurien!” Garlan called but she stormed towards Hildyr, sword raised. Hildyr lifted her hand. Magic crackled in the air. Jurien crashed into an invisible barrier, stumbled back and barely managed to hold on to her sword. Unfazed by Jurien's actions Hildyr raised her eyebrows and leaned her head to the side. A barrier materialized in front of her, taking up the whole width of the corridor and stirring up dust in the process.

Behind her someone rushed out of a side room and plunged a sword through Hildyr's back.  
Garlan cried out. Hildyr's eyes widened. She slowly turned her head to stare at the blade sticking out of her stomach. Blood stained her silken dress. Lucette's knees went weak. She reached for Garlan's arm, caught herself doing so and stretched her hand in the other direction. Her fingers touched the cold stone wall.  
“Mother,” she whispered.  
Hildyr's gaze wandered to her and for a split second Lucette was sure that she wanted to smile. She must have been mistaken. Hildyr gasped for air and the person behind her pulled out his sword with a sudden jerk.  
“Witch,” Alcaster spoke, voice full of contempt.  
Jurien took a step back and readied her sword again. Garlan stood beside her, doing the same.

Lucette could not do anything but hold on to the the wall and stare at Hildyr on the ground. She did not move. The wound on her back was too large.  
Steps were coming closer behind Lucette and she spun her head. At least ten soldiers of the Order of Caldira marched in step towards them. Garlan cursed under his breath and turned around, his back facing Jurien's. His face was pale and his hands were shaking.  
“We will get out of this,” Jurien said quietly.

  
Alcaster nodded to his men. “Take these three captive. Search for the king. Now that the witch is dead he won't be under her spell anymore.”  
One of the soldiers reached for Lucette's arms. She struggled to free herself but the man seized her.  
“Let go!” she hissed. “I am the princess!”  
He hesitated, but a glare from Alcaster was enough for him to strengthen his grip. She saw two soldiers attack Garlan at the same time. He parried the first blow, the second knocked his weapon from his hand. One man tackled him, another surprised Jurien who had not risked to turn her back to Alcaster. More soldiers pushed forward. Jurien cried out and fell silent.  
“If you touch her again...” Garlan warned through gritted teeth. His threat was ignored.

Alcaster's men detained them, forcing them into their midst. Her mouth was set in a hard line, he had turned red.  
“You imagined it to be too easy to break into the palace,” Alcaster said.  
“True,” Garlan growled. “Too bad we didn't kill you when we had the chance to do it.”

A soldier punched him in the gut and Garlan doubled over. Jurien fought her guards and before she knew it Lucette was doing the same. Only when Alcaster stood in front of her she stopped dead in her tracks. He calmly eyed her from head to toe.  
“For too long witches have plagued Angielle”, he stated. “Genaro was too soft to continue the persecution until every witch was dead. We will not repeat his mistake.”

Lucette's heart raced, her hands were clenched to fists. He had murdered her mother. She might have been dangerous, but she hadn't always been a monster. Lucette didn't know what had turned her into this, but she knew that it did not give Alcaster the right to kill her just because she was Hildyr's daughter. The right to overthrow the king, maybe even murder him. The right to mistreat Jurien and Garlan and threaten death to every witch. Delora. Waltz.  
The soldier holding her arms screamed and stumbled back. Alcaster recoiled, too, his face twisted into a grimace.  
“Kill her!”

  
Her skin felt like it was burning. She noted the soldiers who quickly retreated. The ground under her feet was covered by black soot.  
The Tenebrarum feeds off of hatred and fear, Parfait had said.  
“Kill her!” Alcaster repeated. When no one reacted he drew his own sword and eyed her with a calculating gaze. She could not help but stare at the black floor. Alcaster could see what kind of powers she had inherited – but possibly that she also couldn't control them.  
Hildyr twitched. She slowly moved her head to look up at Alcaster. Her eyes were dull but narrowed with wrath. Alcaster raised his sword, apparently unsure of whom to turn it against.  
A tremor went through Hildyr's body and her eyes fell shut. Alcaster's sword jumped out of his hand and struck at his neck.  
“Sir Alcaster!” a few soldiers shouted. Alcaster collapsed.  
  
Turmoil broke out. Men were shoving each other, some trying to get away, others rushing to help their commander. Lucette recoiled when she heard screams to her left. Several soldiers who had been standing around hesitantly staggered aside to make way for a quickly approaching Mythros. Lucette almost didn't recognize him without his usual calm expression on his face. His hand clutched his arm where Jurien had struck him. It was stained with blood.  
“What is the meaning of this?” his voice sounded above the chaos. “It was not–“  
His gaze fell on Hildyr on the ground and he broke off with a howl. A couple of seconds he simply stood there, completely motionless. No one dared to move except for those who had gathered around Alcaster. Lucette could not see his body any more.

  
She winced when someone touched her arm. Varg had stepped next to her. He shot a short, inquiring look at her, then turned to Hildyr. He pressed his lips together.  
Without warning one of Alcaster's men moved and attacked Mythros who was still standing in the same spot, entirely rigid. He swung his sword. A split second before his blade hit Mythros' neck it collided with an invisible barrier. The next moment the soldier was smashed into the brick wall.  
The sound was enough to bring everyone into action. More soldiers moved to aid the first. Jurien rammed her elbow into her guard's stomach, Garlan gave his a headbutt. Then Lucette was shoved.  
She would have fallen if someone hadn't caught her arm.  
“They should be more careful with you," Varg murmured to her and grinned, “No reason to hurt the princess in all this chaos.”

If he had wanted to say anything else, it got drowned in a deafening crash. The tunnel quaked, dust rose from the ground. A few men screamed and Lucette coughed.

  
“We need to get away from here,” Varg said, still holding her arm, “otherwise Mythros will bury us alive.”  
“Tell me something I don't already know!”  
Lucette craned her neck and tried to find Jurien and Garlan, but couldn't spot them between the uniformed soldiers. A few steps further the tunnel disappeared into ashes. Varg pulled her away.  
“Not that way!” Lucette hissed, “the exit is in the other direction!”  
“Who said I wanted to take you out of the castle, princess?” He seized her upper arm and moved forward. Lucette stumbled after him.  
“Where do you want to go? Are you following Mythros' orders or Alcaster's? Do you _have_ orders?”  
“I'm getting us both into safety,” Varg replied. “The other way is longer, the passage could already be blocked. If your so called saviors are heading in your direction, they could pay with their lives.”  
Lucette bit her lip. “You can't know that. You just want to scare me.”  
“Maybe.”

  
They arrived at the stairs leading to the upper floor. Several soldiers approached. Lucette gasped for air, but Varg pressed himself to the wall and pulled her to his side.  
“Don't panic. As long as I am dragging you along they will believe that everything is in order.”  
“Alcaster commanded to kill all witches,” Lucette whispered to him. The soldiers had passed them by now and hastened into the hallway. Varg began climbing the stairs, tugging her once again along.  
“Apparently most soldiers here don't know that yet. They are busy for now. Believe me, nothing will happen to you as long as you are with me.”  
“That does not comfort me. Also I am not indebted to you.”  
“I am deeply wounded.”

 

  
They reached the stairhead, with no soldier to be seen. Not even one of the guards usually patrolling in regular intervals along the corridors.  
Varg strode onwards and Lucette had trouble keeping up with him.  
“Let go of my arm already, Varg. My hand is going numb.”  
“You won't run?”  
“Where to?” Lucette hissed. “I any of the soldiers haven't left their positions I will have a better chance of survival with you.”  
“Damn right,” Varg smirked and let go of her. “Well then, this way, Your Highness.”

He turned right into a passage with archways that allowed an unobstructed view of the palace garden. Lucette followed him a few steps, rubbed her arm and furrowed her brow.

“We will end up at the front gates.”  
“Yes. I'd say we leave before Mythros gets the idea to blast the palace into pieces right under your royal behind.”

Lucette stopped right in her tracks. “We cannot go. The king is still here.”  
“That's where he should be, no? No one can forbid him to—"  
“Alcaster said that the soldiers should search for him since he won't be under Hildyr's control any longer.”

Varg shrugged. “And?”  
“Now that Genaro isn't under her spell anymore they will kill him. I won't allow it. He is my father.”  
Varg laughed mockingly. “Your father! Didn't you mention that he never cared for you?”  
“That makes no difference.”  
“Oh yes, young lady. We will both save your life, that's what's most important.”  
“No!” Lucette said. “He is the king. Whom else will the people accept? Me? Angielle needs a king, and it certainly can't be Mythros!”  
“We need to get out,” Varg retorted sharply. “We can figure out the rest later.”  
“If we go now there won't be a later! We cannot leave the king behind!”  
“We cannot leave the king behind,” Fritz said quietly.

Lucette flinched. “Fritz?”  
Varg hissed and brought his hand to his head. “Not now, idiot. Stay inside.”  
“Fritz!” Lucette's heart raced. “Can you hear me? The king needs your help. I need your help!”  
“Stop encouraging him, damn it!” Varg barked.  
“ _Adiuva_!”

Varg shut his eyes and let out a frustrated shout. Then he slumped down. Within moments he opened his eyes again to look at Lucette. They were still yellow, but the expression was softer than before.  
“Lucette, is everything alright?” Fritz asked.  
“I am okay,” Lucette replied. “We need to find my father and leave as quickly as possible.”  
Fritz gulped and nodded. “Do you know where he could be?”  
Lucette thought feverishly. “In his bedroom, in the throne room? I don't know.”  
“The throne room is closer. Let's look there—"

He cut himself off when he heard steps coming closer. Fritz firmly grabbed his sword and moved in front of Lucette to shield her.  
“Lucette?”, a voice she didn't recognize called out.  
“Who is that?” whispered Fritz to her, not lowering his sword.

She didn't have time to answer. Four people turned around the corner of the hallway, every one of them covered with dust coating their clothes. The one in front seemed familiar to Lucette, though she couldn't say why.  
Behind him were Jurien, Garlan and Karma, all armed with swords. Jurien had blood on her leg but Lucette couldn't tell if it was her own.  
“Lucette!” the man exclaimed, obviously relieved, and she realized that it was Waltz. She didn't know what to say when he came to a halt in front of her. He was pale, breathing heavily and examined her closely.  
“Are you okay?”  
“You broke your curse,” she said.  
“After Hildyr's death it was lifted automatically. I could increase Parfait's breach in their security, that is why we are here.”  
“And it was a good idea to bring all available forces.” Karma glimpsed over his shoulder. “We need to get out as soon as we can. Right now the situation down there is in chaos, but it cannot be long until they start following us.”  
“I will not go without my father,” Lucette stated. “If Alcaster's people find him, they will murder him.”  
“Where is the king?” Jurien asked curtly.  
“We don't know yet,” Fritz answered. “We wanted to check the throne room first.”  
Jurien and Garlan eyed him with obvious animosity. Waltz sighed.  
“Let's go.”

 

They rushed down the corridor. Lucette had passed this place so many times in her life, but she had never watched warily for shadows, expecting to come across a soldier around every corner. At times she thought she could hear an uproar from below, but it was so far away that it might as well have been her imagination. No one passed them. Even the palace personal must have fled to the servant's quarters once the fight had begun. Not surprising; ever since Hildyr's return everyone had been on edge.

They reached the broad wing door to the hall without any incidents. Fritz raised his sword and opened the unlocked door. The throne room was dark except for the moonlight that shone through the tall windowpanes. They slowly entered the room, their steps echoing between the walls.  
“Your Majesty?” Fritz called.  
Waltz closed the large door behind them, turned around and raised his hands. A barely visible, flickering shield spread across the polished wood.  
“He used to be here,” Lucette said and observed the abandoned throne on the head end of the room. “Hildyr made him sit there. If her curse has been broken...”  
“Your Majesty!” Fritz repeated, louder this time.  
“Are there any secret exits?” Karma asked.  
“It has been so long since I was here,” Waltz murmured. “I don't remember...”

From the corner of her eye Lucette spotted a movement and spun around. Jurien and Garlan lifted their swords. Something moved between the pillars on the right side of the room. Genaro slowly emerged from behind a pillar. He held his sword with both hands. The color had drained from his face, his hair was more tousled than usual. His glance darted from one to the next and it was so empty that Lucette almost believed that he was still under some sort of spell.  
"Father," Lucette hastily said, "it's me."  
Genaro lowered his sword hand an inch.  
"Lucette?" he whispered.  
"We are here to save you, Your Majesty", Fritz said and bowed. "The-" he hesitated a moment. "The queen is dead."  
Genaro's unbelieving gaze wandered from Lucette to him.  
"She is dead? Is it true?"  
"It is, Your Majesty," Waltz confirmed.  
"Where is my family? What happened in the past few days?"  
"Your family is safe at the Marchen. Hildyr and Sir Alcaster took over but now Alcaster killed her. He ordered his men to arrest you. We assume that he wants to kill you, as well."

Genaro gritted his teeth, but when he spoke he sounded collected.  
"How many people in this palace are not on Alcaster's side?"  
"Everyone present in this room," Waltz answered. "Beyond that we probably shouldn't get our hopes up."  
"We will protect you, Your Majesty," Garlan added firmly.  
"We only have five swords, counting Your Majesty's,” Karma stated. “A witch who just got his power back, and a princess. We are facing the whole order of Caldira and a witch who is insane with fury. I do not want to discourage anyone, but the odds are against us.”  
“I am familiar with the palace,” Fritz responded. “I am sure that we can manage to avoid most of the soldiers.”  
Jurien scoffed. “Don't you think that Alcaster and his men know the palace as well as you do?”  
“There is another option,” Waltz said slowly. “A way out.”  
Karma frowned. “You mean...”

A crashing sound made them spin around. The massive door quaked. A long, narrow crack appeared on the right wing.  
“Did they bring siege equipment?” Jurien asked, stunned.  
“It might be magic,” Waltz pressed his lips together. “I will create a portal so at least a few of us can escape. That should be the safest.”  
“Can you do it?”, Lucette asked.  
He looked at her and smiled. “I will try.”  
Genaro gripped his sword tighter and straightened himself. “I will stay.”  
Waltz shook his head. “Your Majesty, your safety might be the most important thing here. You have to survive or else there will be no one to stand up against Mythros.”  
I am the king of Angielle. How could I stand before my people if I ran away like a kicked dog?”  
Garlan flinched slightly.  
“Your Majesty,” Fritz insisted, “how do you want to face your kingdom if you are dead? The order of Caldira has turned against you. You can't win here and now. Retread and gather allies. The kingdom demands you to live.”

  
Something crashed against the door again. The crack widened, voices shouted incomprehensible orders.  
“We don't have time,” Waltz noted. “I have to disband the shield in order to create the portal. Cover me until then!”  
“Alright,” Karma said and took his place. Jurien and Garlan followed him. Fritz hesitated and looked over to Lucette.  
“Go,” she said. “I won't go without you.”  
Fritz smiled wryly. “If it's necessary to save your life, do it.”

  
He had made it halfway across the room when the door splintered. The left wing was blown away and crashed against the wall, the right wing all but exploded. Splinters of wood whirled through the air, Karma screamed.  
Waltz gritted his teeth. He held his hands against the wall to the side of the room, making its surface vibrate like that of water. Lucette had to turn away her gaze and looked over to the door. About a dozen soldiers entered. A few were visibly confused at the sight of Fritz, which didn't stop them from attacking him. Karma had a bloodstain on his arm and Lucette wondered if it had been there before.  
“I can't see Mythros,” she whispered.  
“Alcaster has not appeared, either,” Genaro added. He still stood beside her, sword in his hand.  
“Alcaster was badly wounded in the tunnels,” Lucette answered. “I don't know how it happened. Mother... was laying on the floor, but she looked at him one more time and his own sword turned against him. It must have been her magic.”

Genaro said nothing.  
“Now she is dead,” Lucette said quietly.  
“And her last action was to try and take her murderer with her?” Genaro's focus shifted between the fighters and Waltz. “It would fit her.”  
Fritz, Karma, Jurien and Garlan had formed a semicircle around the entrance but the sheer number of soldiers was overwhelming. One of them managed to pass Fritz and Garlan and approached Lucette. Genaro stepped in front of her, his sword raised.

  
Fritz whirled around, eyes wide, and lunged toward the fleeing man. His sword hit the man in the back and he crumpled to the ground with a wail. Blood spread across the floor but Lucette could not look away until Fritz turned around again and barely managed to block a blow from another soldier who had followed him.  
“Back to Lucette!” he called.  
Jurien and Garlan didn't react. Only Karma looked around, his face pale.  
“Back to Lucette!” he snapped and followed Fritz who had returned to them.

  
Jurien brought a soldier down, Garlan shouted something to her. Karma and Fritz positioned themselves with their backs turned to Waltz, Lucette and Genaro. The soldiers had swarmed the room by now.  
“How far are you, Waltz?” Karma hissed.  
“Any moment now,” Waltz said, his voice strained. “Where is Mythros?”  
“Not here, apparently.”  
“Alcaster and him have fallen out,” Fritz said. “Maybe he doesn't think it's necessary to support the soldiers.”  
Waltz laughed grimly but said nothing. Lucette could spot a great number of soldiers laying on the floor. A few were still moving, two were pulling their comrade with a bleeding wound on his arm out of the room. Three were still standing and pursued Jurien and Garlan who ran towards them.  
“Majesty,” Waltz said, “It's ready.”  
Lucette spun around. An oval-shaped hole had appeared in the wall. The colors of the wood-paneled walls were blurred black along the edges. The hole was black as well but something moved within, as if black and even more black were circling each other even though one couldn't tell them apart. Lucette couldn't view it for long without feeling dizzy.  
“Please, Your Majesty,” Fritz urged as Genaro hesitated. One of the soldiers gasped for air.  
“Witchcraft!” he shouted.  
“I want Lucette to go first,” Genaro said.  
“I will follow you,” Lucette said firmly. “Please.”

Genaro looked at her with narrowed eyes, lowered his sword and squeezed Lucette's shoulder.  
Then he turned to Waltz.  
“Does it hurt?”  
“It will cause nausea at most, but it will be over soon.”

 

The guards attacked at once. Jurien and Karma sent two to the ground. The third stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm, thanks to a blow from Garlan. Too much blood. Lucette looked down and realized that the floor was covered with soot again.  
"Alright." Waltz' voice snapped her back to reality. Genaro was gone.  
A soldier stopped at the door, peeked inside the room and turned his head. “They are here!” he shouted and ran back the way he came. Garlan cursed loudly.  
“It doesn't look good,” Jurien noted.  
“The portal is stable,” Waltz said. “I can hold it for a while. All of you can pass.”  
“You, too?” Lucette asked.  
He grinned. “If you hurry, yes. I will go last.”  
“Is it safe?” Karma wanted to know.  
“Safer than four people trying to fight forty men. And don't make a fuss about who goes first. Garlan, you start.”  
Garlan made a face and darted a glance at Jurien.  
“I will follow you,” she reassured him. Outside footsteps were approaching. Garlan stepped through the portal and disappeared. Jurien nodded to Lucette before joining him.  
“Lucette should go next,” Karma said.  
“I will stay until Fritz goes,” Lucette replied.  
“Then Fritz leaves first.”  
“I said no fighting,” Waltz panted. Sweat ran down his face. Karma sighed theatrically and shot her a chastising look.  
“See you soon, princess. You'll be sorry if not.”

Without waiting for an answer he strode through the portal. More of Alcaster's men appeared at the broken door and stormed towards them. Fritz readied his sword.  
“You have to go, Lucette!”  
Lucette bit her lip. They were too close, there were too many. She glanced at Waltz who frowned.  
“Go. We can handle it.”  
“Stay safe,” she said. “And Fritz, too.”  
“Of course. We'll be there in a second.”

If that was true he wouldn't demand her to go first. His knees were shaking. Lucette turned one more time and saw Fritz clash with two soldiers who attacked at once. She opened her mouth to speak but in the next moment Waltz shoved her into the portal.  
A moment she couldn't tell up from down.

  
Then she stumbled forward, tried to support herself, smashed into an object and knocked it down. Hands reached for her arms and steadied her.  
“What happened?” Annice's worried voice rang out.  
“Lucette tipped over a mug of cocoa,” Delora answered, “but at least she is here.”  
Jurien stepped towards her. “How are the others?”

Lucette couldn't speak. She glanced around and spotted the portal on the wall. It flickered and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a collaboration between Niekas and me. We plan the story, she writes in German and I translate and draw scenes from each chapter. As English isn't our first language our style might sound a bit strange for now, though we are doing our best to improve. Advice and critique would be great!


	2. The White Bride and the Black One

“Fritz!” Waltz called. “It's your turn!”

Fritz didn't have time to turn around. The soldier right before him struck at his chest but he blocked it. The impact sent his enemy to the ground. Fritz kicked the weapon out of his hands, jumped backwards and bumped into the wall.

At least five opponents advanced towards him, more standing behind them, their swords already raised.

Fritz clenched his jaw. One after another. He could make it.

 

Waltz let out a choked scream, followed by those of them men around him. Fritz' attackers fell back.

 

As Fritz looked over his shoulder he could see Waltz crouching on the floor. His left arm was pressed to his bleeding side.

“I had to close the Portal,” he gasped and grimaced. “I don't have enough strength for a new one.”

“Understood.” He didn't know what else to say.

“My shield should stop them,” Waltz continued. “Let me take a breath, and then we will try to get out of here. Maybe through the door over there.”

Fritz turned his head. Three feet to their left was a narrow door, likely for the servants, blended in with the wood panelling to be unobtrusive.

“Understood,” Fritz repeated.

 

The soldiers kept their distance. One stretched out his hand and touched the invisible wall like a mime. A few were discussing their next steps in a low voice. Fritz heard Alcaster's name.

“We should bandage your wound,” he told Waltz.

“Yes,” Waltz said and took a deep breath. “That would be best.”

 

Several soldiers in front of them were knocked over. The ones who were still standing rushed to the side. Past them Fritz spotted the door. Mythros had entered the throne room.

Waltz groaned, supported himself on the wall and managed to get up. Fritz raised his sword.

 

Mythros strode across the room. When one man took a step towards him Mythros let a flame dart out of the ground without even looking at him. His gaze was set on Waltz, his eyes red and swollen.

“To the door,” Waltz whispered.

Fritz carefully moved to the left.

“So this is where you have been hiding,” Mythros said with a shaking voice. “Traitor.”

 

Waltz raised his hands. “I had nothing to do with Hildyr's death.”

“Do not speak her name!” Mythros screamed.  “Don't you dare mention her! Everything is your fault, rotten traitor!”

“You know it isn't true, Myth!” Waltz called. “Alcaster murderer her. He turned against her. It wasn't my-”

Mythros jerked his left hand up.

 

 

  


 

 

Waltz rushed to the door and after a moment of shock Fritz followed him. The shield burst. Mythros' face was contorted in rage as he let a second wave of magic hit his target.

Waltz had created another shield to protect them from the brunt of the impact. A gust of wind blew through his hair but he didn't fall. His hand reached for the door knob.

The third blow knocked him off his feet and hurled him through the door into the next room. Fritz heard clattering and something heavy landed on the ground. Mythros clutched his arm again and swayed, letting out a yell.

Fritz used his chance to sprint after Waltz and slammed the door shut behind him.  
"Waltz!"

He only caught a glimpse of Waltz who had crashed into a wardrobe full of brooms. There was a drawer next to the door. Fritz hastily pushed it to block the path. Only then he ran to Waltz and went down on his knees.

  
"Waltz! Can you hear me?"  
"Yes," Waltz croaked and tried to push himself up with his arms. The wound on his side was bleeding harder.  
"Don't move," Fritz said. "I will bandage it. Stay calm."

He fetched a neatly folded tablecloth from the drawer. The door quaked and the hinges rattled. Fritz inhaled sharply. He didn't have to be a witch to feel the strength coming from behind it.  
"We don't stand a chance against Mythros," Waltz murmured. "We can fight against soldiers. Against Alcaster. But not Mythros."  
"There must be a way," Fritz said and pressed the cloth to the wound.  
Waltz did his best to hold his gaze.  
"You are no witch. I am the only match for Mythros, but in my condition..." he gasped for air, "I have failed."  
"Be quiet. Lucette would tell you to stop crying and get a hold of yourself."  
Waltz' mouth turned into a lopsided grin. Again something dull hit the door. This time they heard wood creak.

"There has to be a way to win against Mythros." Fritz looked down at his hands. There was blood on them.  
"There is always a way. The question is if it's worth it."  
"What do you mean?"

Waltz hesitated. It had gone completely silent behind the door and made Fritz' hair stand on end.  
"Mythros is not just your enemy, Waltz," he hissed. "If there is something I can do to fight him, I will do it. No matter what the cost."  
"No matter what?" Waltz whispered.  
Fritz didn’t like his expression. He wanted to answer but there was a deafening crack and the door burst.

 

* * *

 

 

Rod must have been walking up and down the room for at least an hour. Genaro and Ophelia sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, holding each others hands. Emelaigne was asleep next to them, her head in in Ophelia's lap.

“Can't you stand still for a second?” Lucette snapped.

Rod shot her a furious look.

“I don't want to sit around doing nothing.”

“Running around won't help anyone, either.”

He growled.

“Please don't fight,” Genaro said quietly. “We only have such few allies left, so at least our family should hold together.”

“You are right, father,” Rod gave in and sat down on the second couch, as far away from Lucette as possible. “What are we going to do now?”

“We have to wait,” Genaro replied. “See who our next opponent will be. Alcaster and Mythros have fallen out. After what Lucette, Jurien and Garlan have said, Alcaster must have been badly wounded. We need to wait and see if he survives.”

“I cannot believe,” Ophelia whispered, “that Sir Alcaster...”

Genaro squeezed her hand.

He looked so old. She had met the whole court with contempt, but Genaro had trusted Mythros and Alcaster.

Mother had always said not to trust anyone.

 

Lucette didn't want to think of her. It led her straight to Alcaster and Mythros, and Waltz and Fritz, who still hadn't returned. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was the new bearer of the Tenebrarum that got stronger with fear. If she brooded over her troubles for too long she wouldn't be able to control its force any more. Delora planned to teach her how to handle her powers but right now Parfait needed every help she could get in order to keep the protection spell up.

Lucette stood up. Rod stared into the fire, but Ophelia and Genaro looked at her.

“Where do you want to go, Lucette?” Ophelia sked.

For an instant Lucette was irritated that they asked. She could not bring herself to be dismissive.

“I just need some fresh air.”

“Stay safe,” Genaro instructed. “These times are dangerous. And we need you, Lucette.”

He smiled. She didn't know what to say, and the idea to return the smile came too late.

“I am careful,” she said and turned to the door.

 

* * *

 

 

The guest room downstairs was empty. Almost everyone had been there when she arrived, Rumpel and Annice had brought Karma to a side room; Jurien and Garlan had reported while Delora listened and tried to make sense of everything. Her stern expression had stayed in Lucette's memory. Now it was dark and abandoned. She shivered. Genaro was right. They needed to protect those who were left.

Mother would have ordered her to stay calm. She pushed the thought aside, crossed the room and stepped outside. Cool air embraced her. The lanterns gave off enough light to overlook the street. The sky was already gray, it couldn't be long until the sun would rise.

“You shouldn't be here, princess,” a voice next to her said.

Jurien sat on a barrel next to the door, watching her with a grim smile on her face.

“With all due respect, I'd prefer if no one who doesn't know how to handle a sword was running around in the streets.”

“I just need some air,” Lucette said.

Jurien slid off the barrel and examined her sword.

“I assume you allow me to escort you.”

“Of course.”

 

The steet in front of the Marchen had always been rather quiet. At this hour it was completely deserted. Lucette raised her head to observe the stars and inhaled.

“It has been peaceful for now,” Jurien noted. “I had expected that  Alcaster would send his lackeys after us.”

“He doesn't know where the Marchen is,” Lucette answered. “It's probably a good sign that no one is here.”

“A sign that Parfait isn't as weak as I had feared.”

“She has always been sick,” Lucette murmured. “I do not think it will get better now.”

“Because of Hildyr's death?” At once Jurien bit her lip.

“They had a connection. Delora said that if one crystal is destroyed, the other would be as well and both bearers die.”

“But the Tenebrarum wasn't destroyed, was it?” Jurien asked.

Lucette shook her head. “If Alcaster wants to find it, he will.”

 

Would she die then? The thought occurred to her for the first time. Until now she had not had a chance to consider what it meant to be the next bearer. She not only could use its power, she was dependent on it.

The morning dawned. In the east the first rays of sunshine hit flat clouds from below. A new day began in Angielle, and no one knew what it would bring. Most commoners probably couldn't even begin to imagine what had just transpired in the palace.

“What is that?” Jurien hissed.

 

Lucette followed her gaze and froze. A wolf with light gray fur trotted along the street. Even though he had lowered his head his shoulders rose head-high, almost reaching the window panes of the houses on his left and right. Blood and dirt coated his fur, a piece of skin hung from his left flank. His jaw had closed around something he was dragging along between his front paws. Lucette spotted the twisted limbs of a human. Jurien stepped in front of her and drew her sword.

“Stop!”

The wolf raised his head. His eyes were yellow. Like in slow motion he opened his mouth and let the body fall to the ground.

 

 

  


 

It was Waltz.

Steps were coming closer from behind.

“Jurien!”, Garlan called. “What happened?”

 

The wolf twitched his ears. He took one, two steps towards them and collapsed. The second he hit the pavement Lucette started running.

 

“Highness!” Jurien barked.

Waltz was laying on his side, his head facing downwards. A big piece of fabric was wrapped around his upper body, but on the side blood had soaked through. Lucette fell to her knees next to him.

“Get Rumpel!” she screamed to Jurien and Garlan. “Waltz is hurt!”

 

Her heart raced, her motions erratic. After a quick exchange of glances Jurien sprinted back to the Marchen. Garlan inched closer to the wolf, his sword ready to strike.

For a few moments the wolf didn't move. Then he began to shrink.

“What is that?” Garlan yelped and clutched his sword. “A curse?”

Lucette couldn't answer. With her hands still around Waltz' arm she watched as the wolf shrank down to the size of a grown human. Garlan pointed his sword at him.

“Who are you?”

“Fritz”, Lucette said.

 

Garlan drew even closer to the man lying in the dirt. His face was covered by his arm, but he slowly lifted it to stare at Lucette. His lips were curled into a grin.

 

“Are you happy to see me?” Varg asked with a hoarse voice.

 

  


 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Doctor Know-all

The sun shone through the small dusty windows, lighting up the room. The dolls on Waltz' shelf smiled at her. It would have been peaceful if not for the fact that he was lying in his bed as if he were dead. His eyes were closed,  his pale face full of scrapes. When Lucette had entered she had seen the biggest bandage covering his whole torso before Rumpel had covered him with his blanket.

 

“He lost a lot of blood,” Rumpel said as he put the gauze into his medical kit. “Most of it is thanks to the wound on his side, probably caused by a sword. The smaller injuries must have been caused by his rather rough ride back to the Marchen.”

“He will make it, right?” Lucette asked.

“He has a fever,” Rumpel admitted. “But I am sure that he will. He is not a child anymore. I was shocked when I heard that he was hurt. If he had still been a child...”

 

Waltz murmured. Lucette jumped up and leaned over him. “What did you say?”

“Wolf,” Waltz whispered.

“Yes. A wolf brought you here.”

Waltz shook his head. “Wolf. Be careful.”

He fell silent.

 

“He has said that a few times already,” Rumpel said. “I don't know if he is delirious or if he wants to tell us something.”

Lucette frowned and sat down again. “He is not exactly giving us much information.”

“Don't be so hard on him. He is sick and needs rest. You can leave him to me, princess. I will let you know once he wakes up.”

Lucette said nothing and tore her gaze away from Waltz to look at Rumpel.

“Everything will be okay,” Rumpel tried to reassure her. “He didn't lose as much blood as I had feared. Someone must have tended to his wound soon after he got it.”

“Fritz.”

“There is no other possibility.” Rumpel was quiet for a moment. “Has Fritz reappeared?”

“No,” Lucette said. “He is still Varg. I don't understand. In the palace Fritz managed to overtake him by his own will once I called him. Where did Varg come from? And then there was that wolf.”

 

Her hand played with Waltz' blanket.

“Delora told me that Fritz was originally cursed by Mythros. Could it be that he changed his curse so that the wolf was created?”

“We don't know. Varg said that he can't remember anything, Waltz can't talk and nobody else was there. Only Mythros.”

Rumpel cleared his throat. “Mythros is still at large, isn't he?”

“Yes. If we can find him we might be able to learn how to break the curse. We have no clues on where he might be, though.”

“Then, Lucette,” Rumpel said and put his hand on her shoulder. “I suggest that you get some rest.”

 

 

  


 

“I am a witch. The next bearer of the Tenebrarum. I need to fight or at least be ready to do so.”

“I admit I know nothing about either magic or fighting. I just know that you didn't get any sleep in the last twenty four hours, are very pale and feel cold to the touch and that it would be best if you finally got some rest.”

“This is not about my health, Rumpel,” Lucette snapped. “It's about Angielle's fate. If we do nothing against Alcaster, if we can't find Mythros...”

She broke off. Waltz didn't move.

 

“You have a big task ahead of you, Lucette,” Rumpel said. “Just promise me that you won't forget banalities like sleep and eating in the process.”

Lucette scoffed. “That might happen. But I will try to remember.”

He grinned and winked at her. “And we will be there to remind you.”

 

Rumpel wasn't a fighter. He talked lightly without thinking about his words. She wanted to keep this promise. Neither Alcaster nor Mythros would harm the Marchen or its residents as long as she could prevent it.

 

* * *

 

On her way to the guest room she met Delora. She stood halfway down the stairs, resting an arm on the railing. Sweat ran down her pale face. Even though Lucette's steps were loud enough she did not react.

“Delora?” Lucette asked, more bluntly than she had intended to. Delora slowly raised her head. The corners of her mouth twitched in a mocking smile.

“It's you.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“You manage to make that question sound like an accusation.”

Maybe it was one. Delora needed to say that she was okay.

“I wanted to go downstairs and get something to eat,” Delora said quietly.

“What did you do, Delora?”

“What do you think?” She tucked a strand of her sweaty hair behind her ear. “Parfait fortified the Glamour and I am trying to help her.”

“How is Parfait?”

“Last night after Hildyr died she collapsed. We can't do more than hope that she will recover. It's a hard time, Lucette.”

Her fingers lightly drummed on the wooden rail.

 

“We will go downstairs together,” Lucette decided and offered her arm. “Come.”

 

Delora raised her eyebrows in honest surprise. “Who are you and what have you done with Lucette?”

“I am Cinderella. You should know best what I have done with Lucette.”

Delora chuckled softly and reached for her arm.

 

 

 

The Marchen was less lively than usual. Only three regulars sat next to the door and talked with hushed voices over their beers. The second Lucette and Delora arrived Annice hurried towards them.

“What happened? Can I help you?”

“You could bring me some soup. That was on the menu, right?”

Annice nodded. “Vegetable soup. There's enough left.”

 

She disappeared through the door to the kitchen. Lucette spotted Karma sitting at a table in the darkest, furthest corner. Only he could be draped this dramatically over a corner bench. He wore a dress and seemed to sulk. Lucette led Delora to his table.

 

“Good day,” Karma said when Delora sat down. “If it is a good day, which I have reason to doubt.”

“What is it this time, Karma?” Lucette asked.

“This time? You make it sound like all I ever do is complain.”

“Try thinking about it.”

Karma turned his head. “I am not talking to you.”

“Then don't.” Lucette sat on a chair. “Where are Jurien and Garlan?”

Delora wiped over her forehead. “Outside. They wanted to ask around.”

“Isn't that dangerous for them, now that Alcaster is in charge? They were the first to predict the coup.”

“They can take care of themselves.”

Lucette nodded. “And why is Karma sitting around wasting time?”

“I am incapacitated,” Karma lectured her.

“I thought you weren't talking to me.”

Delora smiled. “Karma was hurt in the battle and has to take it easy for a while. I hope he recovers soon.”

“Sometimes I think I am just cannon fodder to you.” he complained.

“Genaro said that we need every ally,” Lucette said, “and you are one of them.”

“At least try to sound less disappointed when you say that.”

“Annice, could I get some soup?” Rumpel entered the room and made his way to their table.

 

Delora waited until he had sat down before she spoke. “How is Waltz feeling?”

“He is still unconscious,” Rumpel replied, “but at least his condition is stable. How is your arm, Karma?”

 

Karma continued to stare outside the window, refusing to look at anyone. “Are you really asking me that?”

“I have to ask. I am a doctor.”

Karma snorted.

“What happened between you?” Lucette asked.

Rumpel adjusted his glasses. “Karma is holding against me that I saved his life before he could bleed out or die of gangrene.”

 

Karma shot him a glare. “He mangled my upper arm to remove the wood splinter!”

“Wood splinter?”

“I was hurt when the door to the throne room exploded.”

“It was a splinter with the length and width of a finger.”

“If I had known that you would react like this I would have pulled it out myself.”

“That would have been counterproductive. Wood swells. I had to be careful to not damage your arm any further. It was necessary to enlarge the entry wound.”

“You are a sadist.”

“I am a doctor,” Rumpel protested, obviously hurt.

“Since when do they rule each other out?”

Delora straightened up. “Don't fight. We have other things to worry about.”

 

Annice left the kitchen holding a tablet in her hands. She set the two soup bowls on the table, shooting Lucette a questioning glance.

 

“I don't want anything,” Lucette said.

“From a medical point of view-” Rumpel began but flinched as a loud noise interrupted him. “What was that?”

 

Delora pointed to the broom closet. “That noise came from there. Don't worry, I have sealed it with magic.”

“What is going on in there? Did you lock Mr. Broom in?”

“No, Varg.”

Rumpel stared at her, completely bewildered. “You put him in the broom chamber?”

“Well, we hardly could have left him in your room,” Karma said. “I know you'd love to sleep on the floor to let a patient have your bed, but the lock to your room is broken. This man is dangerous.”

“He is a patient! You can't-”

 

There was another sound. The door quaked.

 

“I don't think you need to worry about Varg's health, Rumpel.” Delora stood, her brows furrowed. “My seals aren't what they used to be.”

 

Karma grabbed for his sword under the seat.

“Put that away! You need to heal!” Rumpel protested, to no avail.

“It's about life or death.”

“Yes. Of your arm.”

“Annice,” Delora said, her eyes set on the door that seemed ready to give away at any moment. “Take Lucette to the kitchen and stay there.”

“Maybe I can talk to Varg,” Lucette suggested.

“Too risky. Go.”

“I am sick of hiding behind others. I want-”

“This isn't the right moment for self-knowledge, princess!”

 

The door's lock broke out of the frame and Varg entered the room.  He was only wearing a shirt over his pants and walked with a slight limp, but he grinned. He held a broom in his hands.

 

 

 

 

“Back,” Karma said, raised his sword and grimaced. Lucette couldn't move.

Vargs yellow eyes scanned the room before they rested on her. His grin broadened.

 

“Well, look who it isn't.”

“Back,” Karma repeated.

“You can't win, Varg.” Delora demonstratively raised her hands. “I may be a little tired, but it certainly is enough to send you to the ground.”

“I am armed,” Varg shot back.

“You have a broom.”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

 

The broom jumped out of his hands and hit him in the face. With a scream he stumbled backwards. Before he could regain his balance Karma tackled him, sending Varg to the ground.

 

“Careful!” Rumpel called, but Lucette wasn't sure who he was talking to. Mr. Broom moved towards her and touched her elbow. To her relief he didn't try to drag her along for a cleaning session.

“Don't move,” Karma managed to get out. “Annice, do we have a rope?”

Annice walked around them, staying as far away as possible, and peered into the closet. “We have a clothesline.”

“That should do it.”

 

Rumpel sank down on the bench and rubbed his forehead. “Why am I even here?”

 

Varg started another half-hearted attempt to shake Karma off but Delora stretched out her hand and created a shield around the two men. Varg sighed deeply and turned his head to look at Lucette. “Then I should comply to offer a slightly less pitiful view, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos so far! We are trying to release the next chapter as soon as possible (to prove that Varg hasn't completely lost his mind)


	4. The Wishing-Table

A few minutes later they sat around the table again, Varg neatly tied up. Rumpel excused himself saying he needed to redress Karma's wound and Karma wasn't asked. Lucette had let herself get persuaded into eating Rumpel's untouched soup.

Varg's gaze rested on every single movement of the spoon from the bowl to her mouth until she let her hand sink.

 

 

  


 

 

“Stop staring at me.”

Varg grinned. “Want to feed me, princess?”

“I can ask Rumpel to do that, if you want.”

“It's not that urgent,” he declined.

Lucette pushed her half empty bowl away without looking at Annice's sad expression. “What was that just now, Varg? Did you really think you would be able to escape?”

“I am an optimist.”

“Even worse. As a pessimist you would at least have been prepared to fail.”

“I didn't fail,” Varg said. “At least not completely. At the very least I am sitting at a table, am I not? I was pretty lonely in that closet, and when I heard that you were having a nice conversation I decided to add something to it.”

“Really.”

“Also I'd like to get to know my enemy.” He grinned at Delora. “Your seal was weaker than I expected.”

Delora held his gaze. “It won't happen again.”

“Of course you have to say that. Well, we'll see. I heard a few things while in there. That fairy, what was her name again? Something edible. It doesn't seem to be looking good for her.”

 

Lucette glimpsed at Delora who didn't seem fazed by the direction this conversation was going.

“She will recover. And I am still here.”

“Yes, everyone can see that you have never felt better.” Varg laughed. “Mythros talked about the Lucis bearer once. That her life was bound to the balance of the crystals and that she was doomed to die as she was too mellow to rule. Not determined or ruthless enough. A good fairy who will perish thanks to her own decency.”

Delora's lips became a thin line. “Watch your tongue, Varg.”

“I fear I'm not good at that. I think I'd rather try and see how much it takes until I get cursed another time.”

 

That would be the third curse. Lucette had never even heard about two curses at the same time.

 

“What have you done to Fritz?”

”That came from out of nowhere, princess. Do you have nothing but Fritz on your mind?” Varg lifted his shoulders as far as his restrains let him. “He is an idiot, but recently I have done nothing, as far as I know.”

“Where did the wolf come from?”

Varg frowned. “Fritz and I have a curse. I am the wolf. I thought we had sorted that out already.”

“Don't play dumb. You know what I am talking about.”

“What, princess?”

Lucette stared at him. Her hands shook.

“What do you mean?” Varg asked again, his eyes narrowed.

 

Delora leaned her elbows on both sides of her plate and interlaced her fingers. “You cannot remember how you got here, Varg?”

“If you ask me like that, no. I remember how Fritz took over in the palace thanks to her.” He nodded in Lucette's direction. “Everything after that is a blur. A few images of soldiers, nothing more. But I seldom remember everything that happens to Fritz.”

“You don't know anymore?” Lucette asked.

“My leg was wounded, that's what I know. And then I woke up in the middle of the street and heard your gentle voice.”

Lucette puffed.

“I am back.” Varg looked out the window, lost in thought. “In the middle of the day. Seems like Fritz is finally going to stop meddling when I least need it.”

“I wouldn't be so sure if I were you,” Delora said.

“Why not?” He didn't try to hide his distrust.

“Something crucial about your curse has changed,” Lucette snapped. “You aren't the wolf any longer. It's Fritz. And he is a real one.”

 

Varg stared at her. “You mean some time after our little struggle he turned into a furry beast?”

“Apparently. Something must have happened after I left.”

“But what?” Delora knit her brows. “Once a curse has been cast and manifested it doesn't just change. Someone must have altered it.”

“Maybe Mythros wanted to get rid of Fritz completely since he became too meddlesome,” Varg offered. “I am a wolf in the figurative sense and now he is a literal wolf. If that's it, Mythros has done a good job.”

“Fritz is still there,” Delora said. “I can sense him.”

“Great.” Varg sighed. “Are you still choosing him over me, princess? Even now that he has fur and does his business in the bushes?”

“It must be possible to get Fritz back,” Lucette said and shot Varg a glare. “And you really can't remember what happened?”

Varg raised his eyebrows, opened his mouth to answer and yawned.

“Can I get coffee?”

“What?”

“Coffee. Black. No sugar.”

“I could make some,” Annice called from her spot at the counter.

Varg smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you.”

Lucette slammed her hands on the table, making Annice flinch. “Damn it, Varg! What do you remember?”

“Talk a bit more queenly, Highness. I told you that I know nothing.”

She tried to kill him with her stare but Varg withstood it effortlessly.

 

 

  


 

 

“I have never heard of someone having two curses at the same time.” Delora rested her chin on her hands and made a grim face. “This situation is complicated.”

“Can I still undo the curse?” Lucette asked.

“With the power of the Tenebrarum you could,” Delora stated. “But first you would need to control it. That will take time, and then you still need to figure out what kind of curse was cast on him. I fear we have more important matters at hand.”

“I will break it eventually.”

Delora began to smirk. “If the curse motivates you to study magic, that is fine by me.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Varg got his coffee and a straw so he could drink. Not long after Genaro came down the stairs to keep them company. He was still pale but other than that he seemed to take the events with composure. Someone must have informed him about Varg's and Fritz' connection as he studied Varg intently without saying a word. Varg did his best to ignore him and sipped his coffee.

He hadn't finished his cup when the door opened and Jurien entered, followed by Garlan. The look on their faces immediately darkened the mood.

“There you are,” Delora said and sat up. “Are there news?”

Both came closer and bowed deeply before Genaro. Jurien frowned once she noticed Varg.

“What is he doing here?”

“Our safety precautions weren't enough,” Delora explained, “but we were able to disarm him.”

Jurien exhaled. “Can we talk freely as long as he is here?”

“Probably not,” Delora admitted. “Take him back to the broom chamber.”

“Hey!” Varg protested. “I haven't finished my coffee yet!”

 

His complaints were ignored. Jurien and Garlan dragged him back to the closet. She barricaded the door with two chairs and Delora created a shield over them. The guests next to the door eyed them, only shaking their heads and resumed their conversation.

 

“The most important news first,” Jurien said once they had taken their seats. “Alcaster isn't dead.”

“He lives?” Lucette gasped.

“Why not?” Vargs muffled voice sounded from the closet.

“Be quiet!” Garlan barked at him. Delora raised her hand and drew signs in the air.

“A shield that absorbs noise. We can talk now.”

“As I said, Alcaster is alive. According to word from the palace he sustained a heavy wound on his neck that could be tended to. He accuses the witches of the attack on the castle. Soldiers are searching the city. He even offered a bounty for capturing a witch.”

“How high?” Delora asked.

“Thousand gold coins.”

 

Delora waved her hand. “I am disappointed.”

 

“Alcaster is trying his best to discredit you, Your Majesty,” Garlan continued. “He claims that you were under their spell and tried to harm this kingdom. He didn't have proof but people talk.”

“Rumors spread quickly,” Genaro said and passed his hand over his forehead. He already looked a lot more tired. “Evidence is secondary when it comes to the opinions of the general public. I just had hoped that the people would hold a more favorable attitude towards me.”

“May I make a proposal, Your Majesty?” Delora asked.

He turned to her, a hint of irritation appearing on his face. He had not interacted with witches other than his wife, and Lucette knew how awful the last experience had been.

“You have met Karma,” Delora said.

“The red-haired lady?” Genaro asked.

Delora gave a little cough. “Karma is a man. Ask him why he is dressing up, if you are interested. He had good connections to Brugantia. You and your family can take refuge there. Karma can act as a mediator at court. He also is a talented swordsman, something you need right now.”

Genaro gaped at her. “I am supposed to flee my kingdom? Wouldn't that be an admission of guilt to the public?”

“What else do you want to do, father?” Lucette asked. “Alcaster will arrest you and I doubt that he will give you a chance to speak. Brugantia is a better place to wait. We don't know what will happen to the Marchen even with Delora's and Parfait's help.”

 

Genaro hesitated. “I will talk this over with Ophelia. But I need to know what happened to Mythros.”

“As we said, Alcaster is hunting every witch. That includes Mythros,” Jurien chimed in. “Alcaster set his bounty twice as high as that of other witches.”

Delora sighed. “That was to be expected after what happened with Hildyr.”

“How did he even manage to kill her?” Garlan asked. “Hildyr might have not been prepared for an attack from behind, but was that all that it took to kill the most powerful witch with one blow?”

“You are right,” Delora said. “Countless people wanted to end her life. She trusted no one. The Hildyr I knew always surrounded herself with a shield, no matter where she went.”

“Strange,” Jurien mumbled. “Did it look like Alcaster was using magic to you?”

 

Images of Alcaster appearing behind Hildyr and piercing her with his sword flashed before Lucette's eyes as she closed them. Her fingers clutched her skirt.

“No,” she answered and opened her eyes. “How could he have used magic if he is no witch?”

“Varg used it with his cane that he got from Mythros,” Delora said.

“Why would Mythros do the same for Alcaster? I doubt that Alcaster was the only one who planned to betray the other.”

“We don't know what happened. Maybe it really was pure l- pure chance.”

“Were you going to say _luck_?” Lucette hissed.

“It was luck for Angielle,” Delora countered. “The Tenebrarum is in better hands now. Hildyr was human and I am not the kind of person to be happy about a person's death. But yes, Lucette. In a way it was luck.”

 

Lucette refused to look at her. Hildyr was her mother. For years she had been the only person who had supported her. In the last few days Lucette had learned to fear her and discovered things she had never wanted to know. She almost wished that she could bring Hildyr's cold expression to mind. Instead she saw her lying on the ground, closing her eyes as she bled to death.

 

“Lucette?” Genaro asked quietly and reached for her arm.

Lucette flinched and took a deep breath. “I am okay.”

 

Jurien and Garlan were intently watching something on the table. Lucette followed their gaze, raised her hand and noticed a few burn marks, barely visible on the dark wood. Delora softly sighed.

“We should start working on this immediately, Lucette.”

“Once you feel better-” Lucette started but Delora waved her hand again.

“It will be okay.”

“I know you will be able to control the crystal, Lucette,” Genaro said. “I know it.”

He smiled and let go of her arm. Then he turned to Jurien and Garlan. “Thank you for your report. I will talk to my wife.”

 

They jumped up and bowed as he made his way to the stairs. Delora grabbed Varg's coffee mug and emptied it in one go before she stood up as well.

“Let's go, Lucette. I suggest we train in the backyard.”

“There is something else you should know,” Garlan recalled. “There is a rumor about a huge gray wolf in this town that killed a man and dragged him off.”

“Does anyone know that he is here?”

“No, just the part of the town it happened in. ”

“Just what we needed,” Jurien grumbled. “They will blame it on magic. Another reason for people to fear witches.”

“One thing after another.” Delora crossed her arms. “First Lucette needs to keep her magic under control. Then we will deal with everything else.”


	5. Trusty John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No doors were harmed in the making of this story.

The backyard belonging to the Marchen was narrow and darker than she had expected. To each side loomed tall, windowless house walls, casting shadows over it for most of the day. An empty pen that once might have been home to rabbits stood in a corner. Someone had used two large boxes to create a bed for herbs that looked yellow and withered. Lucette wondered if Parfait had been forced to use magic in order to grow something in here.

“The powers of the Tenebrarum certainly caught you off-handed,” Delora said. “Until now the magic has been acting on its own. Right?”

“Right,” Lucette answered.

“Wrong. Your magic only does what you want.”

Lucette wrinkled her nose. “I constantly scorch floors and objects. It cannot be long before I light something on fire. And that is supposed to be something I want?”

“You do it when you are angry, scared or otherwise stressed. The problem is that you aren't able to direct your magic. You seem to be inclined to igniting objects. You have to learn how to target it.”

“Igniting things sounds like offensive magic.”

Delora nodded. “It was my first instinct as you already have a penchant towards it. We can start with shields if you want, however.”

Lucette recalled the bird in the glass dome. The hollow sound of the bird hitting the floor rang in her ears. Hildyr had told her to try harder.

“We start with fire,” she decided. “Before I burn down the Marchen.”

 

Delora smiled and reached into a pouch, taking two white candles out of it. “Good. I borrowed some candles from Annice.” She went over to the wooden shed and placed them on it; one on the left, the other on the right side.

“Try to light this one,” she said and pointed to the right candle.

“How?”

“Concentrate on the wick. Imagine it was burning.”

 

Lucette stared at the candle. Nothing happened.

 

“It's not working,” she protested.

“Lucette, you have been working on this for five seconds. What did you expect?”

“Does it help if I am thinking of negative emotions?”

“It's not about the strength of your magic, it's about your control of it. I doubt it will be useful if-”

A flame darted out of the shed. The candle melt down into a pitiable mass of wax, the second on the left slowly bent to the side.

“You envisioned something unpleasant,” Delora guessed and took a step back.

“Maybe.” She thought of the bird. Mother had wanted her to control her magic to become a worthy successor. To continue her reign of terror. Now she had inherited it without being ready. This time her goal was different. She could save Angielle instead of oppressing it.

“Don't worry, Lucette.”

Delora poked the warm wax with her finger and smiled at her. “At least we are making progress in the right direction. You can make it.”

“Do you believe that?”

“As long as we don't run out of candles, yes.”

 

They trained without many interruptions. Rumpel once showed up to inspect the herbs and bemoan the quality of the lavender. Lucette managed once to ignite just one of the candles that had started to resemble bananas. Still, most of the time she lit both, if not the whole pen or random objects surrounding it. Only Parfait's plants had been left unscathed as Delora had wisely created a shield around them.

At some point Emelaigne appeared in the backyard.

"Is there a problem, Highness?" Delora asked, and Lucette was surprised how friendly she sounded.  
"I don't want to interrupt you," Emelaigne said. "But dinner is ready. Father said he would like to eat together."

She gave Lucette a hesitant smile. She called him father, Lucette thought.

"Is it that late?" She looked up and noticed that the sky had turned into a dark blue. By now it almost would have been atmospheric if she had been able to light the candles.  
"We should stop for today," Delora decided. "But I suggest you pick up the basil first."

Lucette eyed the flower pot that had fallen from the windowsill early in the day after she had hit it with her fire. The clay had cracked from the heat, most leaves had been scorched. She sighed and went over to pick up the pieces.

  
"I hope Annice won't be angry."  
"You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs." Delora collected the creatively bent candles and stepped to the door. "I need to ask Parfait if she needs help."  
Lucette inspected the whole backyard. There were only a few spots that hadn't been charred. She sighed. How long was it going to take until she would be able to break just one curse?  
"Here."  
She almost jumped. Emelaigne had stepped next to her, a dustpan in her hand. She knelt down to push some of the pieces onto it.  
"We need to wash our hands before we eat."  
"Will Genaro leave?"

  
Emelaigne hesitated. "He knows that it is the best for his and his family's safety."  
"But he doesn't want to leave Angielle behind."  
Emelaigne looked surprised. "He doesn't want to leave you behind, Lucette."

Lucette frowned.  
"That is why he wants to ask you if you come with us. But..."  
"I have the Tenebrarum. I can't go."  
"Father knows that," Emelaigne whispered. "You owe the people here too much to leave now that they need you the most. You are loyal, Lucette."  
Lucette averted her gaze. You couldn't trust anyone, stand on your own feet without any support, Hildyr had taught. She wouldn't have been able to believe what Emelaigne had said.

After they had returned the basil plant to Annice and washed their hands, they sat down at the laid table. Annice had managed to find a tablecloth. Genaro, Ophelia and Rod had already taken their seats when Emelaigne and Lucette joined them.  
"There you are," Genaro said and smiled.  
She nodded and noticed another empty chair.  
"Are we expecting anyone else?"  
"I invited Klaude Aidric Renaldi Mattheusto eat with us."

  
Lucette's reaction must have been visible on her face as Ophelia hid her smile behind a handkerchief and Genaro's lips twitched.

  
"I have gotten to know him as a trustworthy young man. He told me that he might have to decline my invitation, however, as he had to rest, so we should not wait for him. Sit down."  
Annice scurried from the kitchen and served the soup, not even making a sound with the plates. Lucette had been wrong about her. She would have been a good maid.

They ate in silence. Rod's gaze was set onto tablecloth, even his plush bunny seemed lost in thought. Ophelia reached for Genaro's hand who took it.  
"Father," she said after finishing her meal. "I heard that you have decided to leave for Brugantia."  
Emelaigne was suddenly very busy trying to fold her napkin.  
"Yes. We will leave tomorrow. Klaudewill accompany us. Delora told us that he is a capable sword fighter. Even if he insists on traveling in a dress."

Lucette nodded. "He manages to switch outfits pretty fast when he has to."  
"That is a relief to hear."  
"It's probably the best to leave quickly. Even if that means we have to say our goodbyes tomorrow."  
Genaro stirred what was left of his soup. "Lucette. I had considered asking you to come with us."  
"I can’t."  
To her surprise he gave her a smile.  
"I am aware of that. I hadn't expected anything else from you. You are the bearer of the Tenebrarum and it is your responsibility to use your powers for the good of the kingdom. You will be a good queen one day, Lucette."  
"If the kingdom still exists," Rod murmured.  
"I will see to that," Lucette retorted.  
For the first time he looked up to meet her gaze, studying her. He said nothing.  
  
After the meal Genaro and his family had excused themselves to their rooms. They had wished her a good night and Ophelia had dared to give her a short hug. Lucette didn't know what surprised her more - the fact that she had hugged her or that she didn't feel the need to get angry.

  
By now the sun had set. The Marchen was completely empty, even though there usually were at least two visitors who stayed until Annice made them leave. They were setting the chairs aside when the door opened again. Jurien and Garlan entered, slightly out of breath.  
"What time is it?" Garlan wanted to know.  
"Exactly ten."  
"Then we made it just in time."  
"For what?" Lucette asked.  
"Alcaster has imposed a night curfew," Jurien explained. "Soldiers patrol every street. The ban will be lifted once Mythros and the royal family have been arrested, but no one knows for sure. The innkeepers complain the loudest since they need to close much earlier."  
"I assume our kitchen is closed as well?" Garlan asked with pleading eyes.  
Annice smiled. "I left something for you."  
"You are the best, Annice." Jurien lifted one of the chairs from the table and let herself sink onto it. She looked very tired.  
"Did you learn anything else?" Lucette asked while Annice disappeared in the kitchen.  
"Nothing important, I fear." Garlan tilted his head until his neck cracked and made a face. "One time we were nearly spotted by some old acquaintances."  
"We should think about dressing ourselves up," Jurien suggested. "Maybe we can get a transformation potion from Delora or Parfait.”

“Since we are talking about transformations,” Lucette said. “Have you found a trace of Mythros?”

“Not yet.”

“He could have left the town.” Jurien traced the table's texture with her finger. “His goal was to bring Hildyr to the throne. After her death he might have wondered what to do and fled.”

“Or he wants revenge,” Garlan suggested. “I can't believe that we just got rid of him like that. The problem is that the town is huge and he has endless options to hide. He might even be calling himself Sorthym and no one gets it because he used a spell.”

A rumbling came from the broom closet. Lucette flinched, as did Annice, who had just entered the room carrying two plates.

“Is Varg causing trouble again?” Jurien growled. “He is tied up, isn't he?”

“Yes,” Lucette answered. “And Delora reinforced the shield on the door. She said no one can get through.”

Annice placed the plates on the table. “Maybe we should let Varg out and give him something to eat,” she said cautiously. “He didn't eat anything today.”

Garlan shook his head. “If he is going on a riot in there I don't want to let him out.”

Lucette pursed her lips, went over and stopped in front of the chairs they had used to bar the door. “Varg? Are you hungry?”

There was no answer.

“Varg? Can you hear me?”

This time the response was a high-pitched whine. Something huge bumped against the wall.

“What in the world is he doing in there?” Garlan mumbled past a mouthful of potatoes.

“That's a bit fishy,” Jurien decided. “We should wait until tomorrow until Karma and Delora are here. We can't risk-”

The door cracked. One of the two chairs slowly slid in Lucette's direction. She stumbled backwards. Another crack and the door opened inch by inch. Behind it a mountain of shaggy gray fur appeared.

“Fritz?”

 

 

  


 

 

The wolf carefully wriggled out of the tiny room, trying not to knock over the chairs. With two small steps he was in front of Lucette. He had lowered his head so he could look into her eyes.

“Fritz,” she tried again. “Can you hear me?”

Fritz gave another quiet whine and stretched out his muzzle.

“What the...” Garlan whispered.

“He is harmless,” Lucette said. “He knows what he is doing.”

“What does that mean?” Jurien pointed her fork at Fritz. “Why did he turn back into a wolf?”

Lucette looked out the window. It was completely dark outside. “Varg used to show up at night. Maybe it's the other way around now.”

Fritz nodded and bumped into a chandelier that started swaying alarmingly. He whimpered and pressed himself to the floor.

“We really should take him outside.” Jurien looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

“We can't,” Lucette retorted. “Someone would notice him and we really don't need any more rumors about a big bad wolf. Also I doubt that he would fit through the door.”

Jurien sighed.

“Come, Fritz.” Lucette returned to her seat. “If you stay on the ground everything will be fine.”

“The chairs are pretty sturdy,” Annice tried to encourage them. “I will go and warn the others so no one gets surprised if they come downstairs.”

 

Lucette nodded, surprised at how nonchalant Annice reacted to a giant wolf in this cramped space. Though with an inn full of cursed people she must have been accustomed to strange situations. Fritz trotted to her and laid down, his head next to Lucette.

“Is this going to happen every night?” Garlan asked.

“He probably will be Fritz at night and Varg at day. At least that's what it looked like this morning.”

She reluctantly stretched out her hand and stroked the dense fur on Fritz' neck. He blinked a few times.

“What happened to you, Fritz?” she murmured and noticed that her voice trembled slightly. “Did Mythros curse you?”

Fritz flattened his ears.

“Blinking once means yes, twice means no.”

He stared at her without blinking once.

“What is wrong?” Lucette asked. “Do you not remember?”

He licked his muzzle.

“Apparently Varg isn't the only one with a memory problem,” Jurien noted.

Lucette took a deep breath. “Everything will be alright, Fritz. We will find out what your curse is. Maybe Waltz can help us once he is awake. And if you can't break the curse by yourself, I will. I will find a way.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jurien and Garlan had left long ago. Delora had visited the guest room and lamented that her shield had not been made for huge wolves. Both her and Annice had tired to make Lucette go to bed. Nevertheless she was kneeling on the floor next to Fritz. Her eyelids were heavy.

“I will find a way,” she mumbled. “I won't give you up.”

His broad head rested before her. She knew that Fritz was there, behind those yellow eyes.

“What is it like, being a wolf?”

He breathed audibly and gave her a short look.

“The transformation doesn't hurt, right?”

Fritz shook his head, almost knocked over a chair and flinched.

“That's something. What about Varg? Back in the castle you won on your own. And now?”

He just looked at her.

“Varg has a human body, but you don't. Why? Can't you try to get back in control while it's day? It isn't fair.”

He made a sound she couldn't identify, and she thought that he would have laughed if he had been able to. She dug her fingers into his fur.

“It's not fair.”

 

Fritz was the summation of his good traits, Mythros had explained. A knight in shining armor. Varg was his bad side. Until now Varg had been the animal, unleashed strength, no morals. Now Fritz was the wolf. At least animals didn't spin intrigues. So far no animal had tried to oppress a country to enact vengeance for its persecution.

 

“What would happen if Varg disappeared?” she asked. “Would you stay a wolf?”

His gaze reminded her more of a dog than a wolf. Lucette swallowed. He was still there, she knew it. She couldn't shake the thought that Varg could talk and Fritz couldn't, that Varg was a human who could respond to her. Varg and Fritz were one, Mythros had said. Until now she had thought that Fritz was the original, Varg the fake. The wolf complicated everything.

“Maybe you would come back once Varg is gone. As a human. As a knight. The way it was before.”

Fritz turned his head, more slowly this time to avoid colliding with anything. Then he stood and curled around her. She leaned back, resting against his side, careful not to touch his hurt flank.

“What if you turn back?”

 

 

  



	6. King Thrushbeard

Lucette woke up in her bed. For a few seconds she drifted in comfortable half-sleep before she sat up with a start. The sun had already risen and made her squint briefly. How had she gotten here? She was still wearing her dress from the day before, only her shoes were placed next to the bed. Hastily she swung her legs out of the bed. Her head hurt slightly, she couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

She had dozed off next to Fritz who turned back into Varg at sunrise. Fritz hardly could have dragged her upstairs.

Last night had not been helpful in getting new information about the balance of power between Fritz and Varg. She wanted to ask Delora if there was a chance that Fritz would return in a human body if he broke the curse. She didn't actually believe that Delora had an answer – she needed someone to give her hope.

Hildyr would have been disappointed to see Lucette relying on others and clinging onto hopes that defied all logic. Lucette was ready to fail her.

The tavern's tables were empty except one that was occupied by Varg and Karma. Like yesterday Varg was tied up and sipped his coffee through a straw. His face was paler than usual, the scratches from the day of his arrival clearly stood out. He looked like he hadn't gotten any more sleep than her.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully when she went over. She wondered if he pretended to be happy just to provoke her. She propped both arms on the tabletop.

“Did you carry me to my bed?”

Varg grinned broadly. “Maybe.”

“Garlan did that,” Karma corrected and adjusted his clothes. “Before Fritz turned back, if I might add. I would have done it, too, but Delora was against it for some reason.”

“What luck,” Lucette huffed.

Karma raised an eyebrow. “Whom were you referring to?”

“To you, obviously,” Varg said.

“Fritz would have done it himself,” Karma continued, ignoring him, “but the stairs were too narrow for him.”

“They wouldn't have been for me,” Varg noted. “But no one wants my help. Not even when I am better suited for a task than everybody's darling Fritz.”

Lucette rolled her eyes. “Don't even try comparing yourself to Fritz, Varg. You would lose.”

“I would like not comparing myself to him, but I got the impression that someone in this room would do it anyway.”

She didn't have a response for that. Luckily for her Annice entered the guest room and spotted her.

“Highness! You are awake already?”

“Already?” Varg echoed. “It's almost eleven o'clock. I have been awake for hours.”

“With the help of five cups of coffee,” Karma added.

“The coffee you sell isn't even half bad. You should drink it, princess.”

Lucette hesitated for a moment. “Yes. I could try.”

“I will get you a cup,” Annice said. “Even if it was better if you just got enough sleep.”

“Another time.”

“You can sleep when you are dead,” Varg declared cheerfully.

Nighttime was the only time to see Fritz. She could sleep once Varg was dead.

The next moment she could have slapped herself for thinking that. Had she just wished death upon another human? That depended, she thought. Depended on whether Varg was an actual living being that couldn't just disappear or be suppressed but that died – or if he was just a virus that threatened to take over Fritz.

What exactly was Varg?

She sat down. Varg was busy taming his straw. She watched him until Karma's voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Princess? Surely you have heard that the king will depart today.” He twirled a strand of hair around his finger and sighed theatrically. “I had promised to return only once I had broken my curse. Alas, I fear that I do not have a choice in that matter. I hope Llama will not tease me about this.”

“Who is that?”

“My brother.”

“Your brother is called Llama?” she asked, perplexed.

“As a matter of fact, he is.”

“And you don't like him because he copied your name?”

Varg took the straw out of his mouth for a moment. “I assume it's because Llama is better at sparkling.”

“I am overjoyed at the prospect of not having to be in your presence anymore.” Karma crossed his legs. “His Majesty and his family will be more pleasant company.”

“Have you met Rod yet?” Lucette asked.

“Just imagine, he is more agreeable when he is not dealing with you.”

Annice came back and placed a new cup of coffee in front of Lucette. Karma rose.

“Since you are keeping an eye on Varg now I can go and as the king if he is ready.”

“Do whatever you want,” Lucette grumbled and brought the cup to her lips. It was too hot.

“Did you sleep well, princess?” Varg asked.

“Not long enough.”

“Just ask me. When I took control Fritz always said that he slept like a baby, didn't he?”

“Yes. Back when he could talk.”

“Fritz is a poor thing, I know.” Varg rolled his eyes. “Meanwhile I am having the time of my life. I might get pushed around by everyone and feel like I haven't slept at all since I was cursed for the second time, but hey, I get to communicate with princesses and got coffee! So I won't complain.”

“It sounds to me like you are complaining.” Lucette blew over the surface of her coffee. “I think I need to add milk.”

“You like milk?”

“Not by itself, but in coffee it is good.”

He shook his head. “You should like something completely or not at all, if you ask me.”

“So.”

They sat and drank in silence for a while.

“Last night,” Varg said slowly and stopped.

“Yes?” she asked.

“You sat next to Fritz. You asked him if he could take control when it's still day. Because it's not fair the way it is now.”

“I thought you didn't remember what happened when Fritz took over.”

“Only very important things. What you said was important to him, you know?”

Lucette didn't speak.

“So you are serious. You think it isn't fair that Fritz is a wolf. And because you are hoping that he will come back as a human you want me to die?”

“I don't want you to die!” Lucette snapped. “It's just that your existence threatens Fritz and I don't want to give him up, and...”

She stopped when she saw his smile. It wasn't his typical wolfish grin or his mocking one that he usually reserved for her and others.

“You don't hope that I will die?”

  


Lucette wanted to respond but her head was empty. She grabbed her mug and Varg took cover as if expecting to get hit with its content. Instead she picked it up and rushed to the farthest corner of the room, past Annice, who stared at her in shock.

She sank down on a chair, her back turned to Varg. She couldn't look him in the face.

* * *

Jurien and Garlan brought Varg back to the broom closet before setting out for their usual investigations across the town. Only once Varg was gone Lucette dared to leave her seat. She needed to stop thinking about him and Fritz before she went insane. In any case there were more important things to do, such as getting her magic under control.

As she carried her empty cup to the kitchen she noticed traces of soot on it. She would ask Delora to continue her lessons.

Her plan got interrupted by four people descending the stairs. It took her a few seconds before she figured out that it was the royal family. According to Genaro Parfait had given him a potion that changed his looks into that of a younger, lankier man. As there hadn't been enough potions everyone else had been forced to make do with disguises. Still, she wouldn't have recognized any of them with their simple, patched and washed out travel clothes. They tried to pass as woodsellers, and what little luggage they had was tucked away in bundles of brushwood on their backs. Emelaigne had braided and hidden her long hair beneath a hood, Rod had stuffed his rabbit into his shirt, making him even more taciturn than usual.

The farewell was brief. She swallowed when Genaro gave her a short embrace and stroked over her hair.

“You are my daughter,” he said quietly. His voice was still the same as before. It was comforting for some reason. “You always have been and will be my daughter. I know that you will do your best to save Angielle.”

Lucette just nodded, not trusting her voice. Ophelia hugged her, Emelaigne forced a smile and Rod deigned to give her a nod that Lucette returned. 

  


Then they left the Marchen, followed by Karma and Annice.

The door shut behind them, leaving her behind. No one was left. No one but Varg, that was. She wondered if that counted.

“The Marchen is becoming more quiet,” a voice behind her said. She whirled around to face Rumpel. He gave her a smile that wasn't as bright usual.

“They will make it out of the town.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “No need to worry.”

“According to Jurien and Garlan there are soldiers everywhere,” Lucette retorted. “I haven't left since Alcaster took over.”

“No one would be able to recognize them as the royal family.” Rumpel put his glasses back on. “They probably have to go through a few checkpoints, but I got to convince myself personally that His Majesty has nerves of steel.”

She felt her palms of her hand grow hot. She wanted to return to the backyard and practice, without Delora if she had to. Or something else other than her father and the frustrating situation with Varg.

“How is Waltz?” she asked and cursed herself for not wanting to think of her problems.

“He is on his way to recovery,” Rumpel answered. “He was awake for some time this morning.”

She stared at him. “You promised to tell me!”

“I tried!” he protested. “I wanted to wake you up but you threw a pillow in my face and turned around.”

“I did not.”

“You were half-asleep. As was Waltz. He didn't say anything, not even about a wolf. I asked him a few simple questions and he nodded when I asked if we were at the Marchen. Then he drank some tea and fell asleep again.”

“Is that normal? I mean, it's just a fever. That is the second day Waltz hasn't returned to his senses.”

“If it was a normal fever it would be reason to worry. According to Delora it's not unheard of that a witch who just got his power back and immediately overexerted himself takes a while to recover.”

“If only he could tell us something about Varg's curse,” Lucette murmured.

“Varg's curse?”

“Fritz' curse!” she hissed. “I said Fritz!”

Rumpel stepped back and raised his hands in an attempt to pacify her. Lucette breathed heavily and couldn't stop herself from glancing at the closet. She knew that she had to say something. Before she knew what Delora entered the room. She was even paler than before, her hair tousled and dull.

“Rumpel,” she barked. “You need to see Parfait.”

He shot up. “What happened?”

“She doesn't feel well.”

With a few long steps he passed her and hasted upstairs. Delora wiped her forehead and curled her lips into a grim smile.

Lucette couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth. “Will she die?”

Delora sighed. “She should be taking it easy. She has been on her last leg, for months now. What she needs the most is rest. But these days...”

She trailed off.

“Can I help somehow?”

“You could learn to light candles. Or at least create shields. You can't break as much with those. Do you know how to create one?”

“Theoretically.”

“Practice. I am sorry, but right now I do not have the time to help you. I will pay you a visit later this day, alright?”

She turned around to leave.

“Delora!” Lucette called after her.

She turned slowly turned around. “What is it?”

Lucette didn't know what to say. “You will stay, right?”

Delora raised her eyebrows.

“Fritz isn't the same anymore, and I don't know if he ever will. It's complicated with Varg. Now father is gone, Waltz still isn't waking up and Parfait...” she broke off and tried again. “Everyone leaves.”

“Your father will be more safe where he is going.”

“I know. But that's not the point.”

“Of course not.” Delora smiled. “You aren't alone, Lucette. You never are.”

“Thank you.”

Lucette stared at the floor because she couldn't look at Delora right now. She wondered what mother would have said. She couldn't come up with anything. She decided that was a good thing.

* * *

She found a few dried peas and put them into a bowl. She tried pushing them into different directions with her shield. It worked surprisingly well. Fine, the peas usually rolled where they wanted, but at least they moved and didn't go up in flames.

The floor above her was completely quiet. Even the broom chamber stayed silent. Lucette had deliberately sat down with her back facing the door, and for the most part the peas had distracted her. No guest had entered the Marchen today, not even the three regulars from yesterday. When the door opened her first thought was that Alcaster's men had found the inn, but it was just Annice.

“Did it work?” Lucette asked and stood up.

“Yes. No one recognized them, not even princess Emelaigne. They were only stopped at the city gates, like everyone who wants to leave the city. The fact that Rod couldn't speak raised some suspicion with the guards, but in the end they let them go.”

Lucette exhaled and nodded.

“Karma said they will be in Brugantia in a week if there are no incidents.”

“Will we get messages from them?”

“That will be difficult, but His Majesty has promised that he will try to send some.”

“Good.”

Annice smiled. “Now it's just the four of us who have to try and deal with our problems on our own.”

“Do I count, as well?” Varg's muffled voice came from the closet.

“To us or our problems?” Lucette asked.

“For a start, you locked me up in a broom chamber. Might answer the latter half of your question.”

“People are pretty scared,” Annice said with a worried look in his direction. “I heard a man saying that he had seen the wolf a second time.”

“That isn't possible,” Lucette said and frowned. “Fritz hasn't left this place since he arrived. They are just rumors.”

“But these rumors show how much they care about it.”

Lucette sighed. “There isn't much we can do against it.”

“No,” Varg agreed. “I can't smooth out everything that others screw up.”

“That would be absurd, anyway. You are the bad wolf.”

“That is not fair, princess. I never chose to be the bad wolf. What if I quit?”

She ignored him. “Is there some work to do, Annice? I practiced for a while, though by now I have a headache.”

“If you don't mind you can go upstairs and ask Rumpel and Delora if they want to eat something,” Annice suggested. “I do not think Parfait wants to eat anything.”

Her face grew darker. Lucette considered telling her about the emergency and decided that someone else would be able to break the news more gently.

“I will ask them,” she said and set off.

* * *

Parfait's room was right under the roof. Lucette had never been there before – and if she was being honest with herself she didn't know if she wanted to visit it now that Parfait's condition was so bad. Just two days ago she had seen her mother die. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want to see it a second time.

She continued at a slow pace and stopped at Waltz' door. Maybe Rumpel was here because Parfait's condition was better than Delora had said. She knocked at the door.

“Yes?” a soft voice rang out.

Lucette opened the door. The room looked the same as yesterday. The lifeless dolls sat on the shelf, the curtains had been closed. Rumpel wasn't there, but when she entered Waltz was facing her, his eyes open.

“Waltz?” she asked, alarmed.

He blinked a few times and smiled weakly. “Lucette. You are here.”

She closed the door behind her and sat on the chair next to his head end. “I was worried. Are you alright?”

“That would be a lie. But I am getting better.”

“That's good.”

They stayed silent for a moment. Lucette bit her lip.

“You seem worried,” Waltz whispered. “What happened?”

“A lot,” she answered. “There was something I wanted to ask you but maybe you should still rest for a bit.”

He shook his head. “What happened?”

Lucette took a deep breath. “Fritz turns into a wolf at night. He brought you here, do you remember that? He takes on that form at night, and he is Varg when it's day.”

Waltz' eyes widened. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

“Delora said that someone must have changed his curse,” she continued. “Can you tell me what happened after the portal disappeared?”

“I was pretty confused,” Waltz murmured. “Mythros wanted to kill both of us.”

“And instead he cursed Fritz. To take even more control of him or something like that. Maybe he saw that Fritz was about to take control over Varg. And now Fritz is the wolf. I don't know if Mythros thought that it was ironic. Anyway, now Fritz' curse is even more complicated and we have no idea how to break it.”

Waltz swallowed. “We can find a solution, Lucette. I promise.”

“How?” she asked. “I thought only the one who has been cursed can break it unless the one who created it dies.”

“We can do it. I will do anything.”

His eyes shined feverishly, his cheeks were red. She bit her lip again.

“You need to rest, Waltz. It probably isn't good if you get upset. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“I am glad you did.” He took a deep breath. “I will recover and then we break the curse.”

“First you recover,” she said curtly, “then we will see.”

* * *

To her surprise Waltz showed up for breakfast the next day. Varg had only emptied half of his mug but went on to watch Waltz when he joined Lucette and him. She didn't even know why she was sitting at the same table with Varg. Probably only because Fritz had rested next to the same table, proven by his gray fur that was still stuck between the floor planks. She was glad that Waltz didn't mention it.

“I have never heard of someone having two curses at the same time,” he admitted and returned Varg's gaze while nibbling on his toast. “I wouldn't be surprised if both curses became unstable and thus easier to break.”

“As long as it isn't the other way round,” Lucette said.

Waltz smiled at her. “I don't think so. Parfait kept records of all cursed guests before she served them. I will ask for them.”

“Are you sure? You just got back on your feet.”

“I was a pretty decent witch, you know. I will do my best to help Fritz.”

“That is really nice of you,” Varg said.

Waltz frowned. “You are a part of Fritz. I want to help both of you.”

Varg threw his head back and laughed. “I was part of Fritz when Mythros first split me from him, but that was ages ago. I have changed.”

“Changed?” Lucette repeated. “You emerged as the summation of his bad traits. And now you are different?”

Varg opened his mouth to answer when Waltz hastily interrupted him. “I will try to reset the curse to its original one. In other words, getting rid of the big wolf so both of you are human again. Then we will see.”

Varg sighed. “Do what you want.”

“Thank you,” Lucette said.

He looked at her askance. “Why are you thanking him? It's my curse.”

“And that of Fritz. I am thanking him in his name.”

The smile that Waltz gave her faded immediately. “I only deserve your thanks once I accomplished it.”

* * *

They had just finished breakfast when Rumpel came down the stairs. He headed straight for Waltz.

“It would have been smarter to stay in bed.”

“I wanted to see Lucette,” Waltz responded meekly.

“My advice would be to lay down again, at least until midday. You are an adult, so do what you want with my advice.” Without further ado Rumpel turned to Varg. “I need to take a look at your leg again.”

“It's healing well,” Varg said. “The transformation into a wolf seems to help the wound for whatever reason. And it's not like I get to move around a lot in my closet.”

Rumpel sighed, glancing at the door to the broom chamber. “Can we stop locking him up in there? It's so undignified.”

“He worked together with Alcaster,” Lucette pointed out. “We can't let him run around freely.”

“But why the broom chamber?”

“What are you suggesting instead, Rumpel?”

Rumpel tilted his head. “We could give him a long chain so he can move around a bit.”

Varg made a face. “And that isn't undignified?”

“At least your arms wouldn't be tied up anymore. That is better for your respiration.”

“We need to ask Parfait,” Waltz said.

“Or Delora,” Lucette added, “if we can't disturb Parfait. How is she doing, Rumpel?”

He hesitated shortly. “I think we should ask Delora.”

Lucette lowered her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drawing a smiling Varg is weird. Now if I knew if it was because of my art or because we see him happy, well...


	7. The Good Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters have titles now!

In the late afternoon of the same day Waltz had already bound the line to Varg's ankle and sealed it with magic. The other end was attached to the counter's backside. From then on Varg spent his days walking around the Marchen and appearing behind people when they least expected it. His agility and speed were slowly coming back. It reminded her of when they had first met. Back then she would have laughed at the prospect of living with him in the Marchen. The events of the past weeks still seemed unreal –being stuck with each other almost was the most normal part of all.

Lucette was used to staying inside, however the lack of sleep started to take a toll on her.

One evening she struggled to keep her eyes open. She had finished supper and her head was so heavy that she let Annice pick up her plate and just rested her head in her hands.

Annice shrieked. Her plate dropped to the ground and broke into pieces. Lucette shot up only to see Varg stepping out of the storage room.

“Whoops.”

“What are you doing?” Lucette hissed at him as Annice started to pick up what was left of the plate.

Lucette stormed over to him once Annice had left the room to throw the shards away.

“Could you stop causing trouble, Varg?”

“Beg your pardon. If you want to be left in peace you should not leash your foes in your home.”

“Don't be pathetic. At least we let you out of the closet.”

His eyes narrowed. “So I am supposed to be pleased with being locked up under different conditions?”

Lucette had no answer, so she reached past him for a sack of rice and changed the topic. “Waltz searched for you this morning.”

“It cannot have been too challenging to find me. You might have missed it, princess, but I am leashed.”

“He said you had locked yourself in the bathroom.”

“Possibly.”

“He called you a few times. He wants to break the curse, Varg. You are not making this any easier.”

“Waltz has absolutely no idea what he is doing,” Varg growled. “Yesterday he experimented with a spell that according to him would help.”

“And it changed nothing,” Lucette murmured, reminded of the wolf that she had spent the night with.

“Changed nothing? My limbs twitched all day and I was convinced that I would grow a tail any moment. I'd like for the wolf nicknames to stay just that.”

“I am sure that Waltz didn't intend to do that.”

“If I close my eyes, flail around with my cane and strike someone in the process it also isn't my intention.”

“He really is doing his best,” Lucette said. “He read Parfait's notes about the patrons...”

“Lovely. I have read those twice by now. There has never been someone with two curses and each one is so distinctive that it is impossible to draw conclusions from them.”

“And that is why he has started to try out spells.”

Varg scoffed. “Well, it's not him who is growing phantom limbs.”

“So what is your suggestion, Varg? Sit around and do nothing?”

“I wouldn't be the only one to do so.”

“What are you trying to imply?” she snapped. “I can ignite candles by now!”

“So I have seen. Unless you can save the country with a bunch of lit candles I fail to see the breakthrough, though. They might appreciate candlelight dinners, but the chance of you winning over even more of your enemies is rather slim.”

She swallowed. “I need to control my powers. According to Delora the glamour on the Marchen almost vanished two days ago. I need to learn how to help them.”

Varg grinned. “Good luck.”

He turned around and left.

“You should be hoping that the Marchen doesn't run into danger!” Lucette called after him. “Alcaster is going after Mythros, so he also won't be happy with you, either. The Marchen is the last safe place.”

“Of course,” he said without looking back. “And every prisoner hopes that his prison remains.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The curfew had not been lifted. The number of soldiers on the streets had not decreased, either, as Jurien and Garlan told them. They avoided leaving the inn more and more, instead spending their time with eyeing Varg with distrust whenever they were present. Varg did nothing to deescalate the situation. Lucette preferred the calmer nights when she could spend some time with Fritz.

“Sometimes you really are the most reasonable one in here,” she said into the darkness. She sat on the ground next to Fritz, looking at the clothesline around his left hind leg. The wound on his flank almost wasn't visible anymore, only a hairless spot was left.

“It's been six days since Waltz woke up. Eight since the fight in the palace. Waltz says your curse is a complicated case. He used a few spells on Varg, but he doesn't want to try anything with you before he has more information.”

Fritz whined. Lucette sighed and ran her fingers through the thick fur on his neck.

“I wish we could see each other at day. I can't stay awake for so long. And I need sleep, you know. I need to practice more, and that's easier when it's still light outside. It won't attract as much attention when a few flower pots break.”

Fritz only looked at her in silence.

“You understand that, right? I just don't want you to be jealous because I am spending more time with Varg.”

He bumped her lightly with his nose. His wolf features showed no emotions. She wondered if she wanted to know if he was jealous.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next morning she was in a bad mood and avoided Varg's gaze as she had breakfast. She didn't waste time before heading out into the backyard to resume practice with the candles. By now she was able to only light the wick and leave the candle intact, provided that she wasn't more than two steps away from her target. She had just set the candles next to each other, ignited ten and blown them out again when Waltz joined her.

“Have you found out more about the curse?” she asked before he could say anything.

“I tried another harmless spell or two on Varg,” he answered carefully. “I think I might be able to risk it with Fritz soon.”

“That does not sound convincing.”

“I am doing my best, Lucette.”

“If I can help-”

“It's a complicated matter. In all modesty, when it comes to our experiences with magic I am years ahead of you. It would be easy to make matters even worse for Fritz and Varg.”

“Even worse?” She scoffed. “Maybe you are right. You know more than me. Still I don't believe that I am doing less than I could. As the bearer of the Tenebrarum.”

He inspected the candles on the wooden box. “You already have improved a lot.”

“And now? Alcaster won't give up the throne if I light a few candles in front of him.”

“You have learned to control yourself and hit the mark, so I think that we can start with actual offensive magic.”

He took a few steps away from her and spread his arms. “Attack me.”

“What?”

“Throw a fireball. Whatever you want.”

“Why at you? I could throw one at Varg.”

“I have a shield,” Waltz reassured her.

“You told me to always be prepared and conjure a second one.”

He laughed. “You paid attention! As soon as the first one breaks I have a new one. Come on!”

“Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

She hesitated.

“Alright, wait.” He walked over to the box and took a candle. “I raise a barrier and you try to light it. Ready? Go.”

 

 

  


 

 

It seemed more reasonable to ignite a candle than Waltz. She frowned and held her hands high. Something hit his shield and disappeared into a darting flame.

“Very good. Your aim isn't bad.”

“I didn't hit.”

“You did,” he said. “You didn't make it through the barrier, but another attack, and-”

Lucette jerked her hand forward and it burst with a ringing noise. He retreated a few steps and laughed.

“That was excellent.”

“You can do it, Lucette!” Fritz called behind her. “Try again!”

She whirled around. Varg sat on the stairs, the line around his foot tightly stretched, his grin maybe a bit too wide.

“Was that you?” she asked.

His grin faded. “Who else?”

Lucette stared at him until Waltz cleared his throat.

“Lucette? Are we going to continue?”

She stepped closer to him. “Didn't it just seem like Varg sounded just like Fritz to you?”

“Do you think so? I didn't pay attention to it. But since both of them are the same person...”

“Varg said that they grew into two different people.”

“Maybe they are blending together again.”

“I am very well aware that you are talking about me,” Varg noted. “It's rather impolite, you know?”

Waltz smiled at Lucette. “Everything will be okay, I promise. I will try to break the curse, and if I can't, you will be able to do it yourself one day, anyway. So let's continue, shall we?”

She stayed quiet, considering if it was Varg and Fritz who fused or if it was her confusing them for each other.

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the afternoon she swiped in the Marchen even though the floor wasn't dirty in the slightest. Annice had left for the town and asked her to stand in while she was away. Lucette had not wanted to remind her that not even one guest had visited in a week. Three of their patrons had been arrested and interrogated for witchcraft, Jurien had reported. Two had been allowed to leave

It wasn't a surprise that no one dared to visit.

“What is taking her so long?” Lucette asked Mr. Broom and looked at the clock.

Mr. Broom wiped back and forth, encouraging her.

“Now I am talking with a broom,” she grumbled.

“You could talk to me,” Varg suggested. He sat on a bench not far from her and inspected his fingers.

“We are both stuck in here and don't leave this room for long. You because you can't be trusted, I can't because it would be too dangerous for me. What kind of interesting topics could we talk about?”

“What interesting topics does the broom have?”

Mr. Broom pranced towards Varg who raised his fists in return. Lucette sighed.

“Father has been gone for a week. I wonder if he and the others have arrived in Brugantia by now.”

“If they had been arrested we would have heard about it. Alcaster would be celebrating in triumph.”

“Or silently discard of the royal family. The less people get reminded of them, the better.”

“I doubt that. Alcaster considers intimidation to be proficient. I worked with him, you know? The king probably is fine.”

Lucette wasn't sure if she should believe him. “I thought about it,” she said to distract herself. “What if we manage to overthrow Alcaster?”

Varg raised his eyebrows. “Until now you only crept away and fortified your protection. Is anyone here who has the leisure to plan a counter-attack?”

“I mean theoretically. Who could take the throne after he is gone? Genaro is popular with the people, but he might be in Brugantia already. The only relative he has in Angielle right now is me.”

Varg began laughing. Lucette glowered.

“Oh, if worse comes to worst Delora can brew some potion and you take his shape until he is back. You will find a solution.”

“You?”

“Did you hope for a _we_? Listen, princess, this droll Marchen gang has been keeping me hostage for more than a week and treated me like a human guinea pig. I will do fuck all to help their plans.”

Lucette pressed her lips together. “That includes me, right?”

He studied her. “At least you are talking to me like I am human and not a disease. Most of the time, anyway. And I am still stuck caring about you.” His mouth formed a slightly mocking smile. This time she couldn't tell whom it was for. “But you don't seem to be doing much against Alcaster, either, so how would I be able to help you?”

Lucette sighed again. She flinched when the door opened and Annice entered, carrying three bags. She struggled a bit to close it again, then smiled at Lucette.

“You finally returned.” Lucette took a bag with bread from her. “I thought something happened to you. Were you held back?”

“Nothing bad happened,” Annice said. “I thought that since I already was outside and just buying groceries I could take my chance and ask around. People might tell a simple cook like me more than they say to Jurien and Garlan.”

“And?” Varg asked and crossed his arms on the table. “What do the people talk about?”

Annice's expression darkened. “Some think that Alcaster did the right thing by ordering the persecution of witches. Many are uncertain, though, and don't want to believe that king Genaro worked together with them. Maybe they will get used to it in time, especially since nothing really changed for them.”

Lucette followed her to the kitchen.

“Is there anyone who wants Genaro back?”

“Not openly,” Annice admitted. “Its dangerous to criticize Alcaster. But some do it behind closed doors. They believe that Genaro was manipulated by the witches. I heard a few say that... I am sorry, princess... that they are glad that Hildyr is dead.”

Lucette averted her gaze. “Are they talking about me, too?”

“They haven't mentioned you at all. Garlan said there are rumors that say you died with Hildyr.”

“So they wish for Genaro to return.”

“Everyone who isn't happy with Alcaster, yes. I even heard an older woman lament that princess Emelaigne didn't get to take the throne.”

With smooth movements Annice restocked the marmalade jars on a shelf. Then she turned to face Varg who was leaning on the door frame.

“Of course they are still talking about the wolf.”

Varg laughed. “Are there even more idiots who have seen him by now?”

“There are different rumors, but the story that he was seen in the night of the attack is the most persistent. A short distance from the place he was seen they found a body, so they believe that he was killed by the wolf. Many think it has something to do with a curse by the witches. Even without the curfew nobody would be brave enough to go outside. You can even buy Wolfssegen.”

“Wolfssegen?” Lucette repeated.

“A spell that is supposed to ward off wolf attacks.”

“So it's witchcraft? But Alcaster is punishing everyone who has something to do with magic.”

Annice tilted her head. “Maybe the merchant is willing to take that risk. He must get a lot of money.”

“So the use of magic might be completely untrue?”

“I have no idea. A neighbor mentioned that you can find the man in a district to the south. He uses a symbol with the shape of a wolf head on the walls so you can find him.”

Lucette frowned.

“What is it, princess?” Varg asked. “Do you want to protect yourself from the bad wolf?”

She wondered what would happen if she cursed him a third time. “It can't hurt to be prepared.”

He nodded to the line around his ankle. “Do you truly think that a completely strange, dubious businessman will be more helpful than your puppeteer friend?”

“No. I just wondered if there was any truth to it. Besides, we should care what actions others take against the wolf, shouldn't we? In the end they might track Fritz down.”

“I'm not sure if this person matters,” Annice retorted.

Lucette shrugged.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Delora certainly would be as opposed to the idea as Annice. Lucette hadn't decided whether to tell her about it at all, but Annice seemed to have done that for her. In the evening Delora assigned Waltz the task of caring for the shields and sat at the table over a bowl of soup when Lucette came down the stairs.

“I consider your idea reckless,” she said.

“Which one?”

“Don't play dumb. You are starting to act like him.” Delora pointed her spoon at Varg who sat on a table behind her and was fully concentrated on folding a napkin.

“Are you not interested in the slightest?” Lucette sat on the chair across her. “There is someone who claims to hold power over wolves. There must be something that caused him to do so.”

“Money,” Delora answered. “He uses gullibility and the need for security to get rich.”

“As if the people weren't prepared to be swindled. If the seller is convincing, there might be something to it.”

Delora sighed deeply. “What do you want to do? Visit the man and explain our situation to him? Tell him who we are and that both the wolf and his alleged victim live in the Marchen?”

“How stupid do you think I am? At the very least I could ask him what he knows about wolves. Whether he has heard of certain curses and how to break them if he has.”

“Very subtle.”

“I want to get rid of this curse,” Lucette seethed. “There has to be a way to help them and it feels like no one cares. Even Waltz is more interested in the shields.”

“Lucette, Angielle is in danger. You are crown princess and bearer of the Tenebrarum. Don't you think you are acting a bit selfish?”

“I am not-”

“You risk the Marchen's safety instead of doing your best to use your magic,” Delora interrupted her. “Yes, Waltz has other problems than the curse. Everyone has. If Alcaster finds the Marchen you can forget helping Fritz.”

Past Delora Varg winked at her and raised the napkin. He had folded a boat.

 

 

  


 

 

“Did you listen to me, Lucette?” Delora asked, her voice sharp.

The ship sailed along her shoulder, hit an invisible obstacle and capsized.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three days ago Varg had almost been surprised by the sunset in the backyard. Since then he had taken to staying in the guest room at dusk. Lucette sat a few chairs away and watched him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

She didn't bother with an answer.

“The man who supposedly can get rid of wolves,” he said. “Do you believe he just can exorcise my Fritz and I will be normal?”

“It won't be that easy,” Lucette growled.

“Are you sure? You certainly should make sure to tell him exactly what to do. Not that it ends with an embarrassing misunderstanding.”

“I never said I would go.”

Varg waved his hand. “We understand each other without words.”

“Since when is there a _we_?”

His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “We are in the same boat, aren't we? We want to break my curse.”

“It's Fritz' curse.”

“I remember that sounding different a while ago.”

She felt her cheeks grow hot. She turned to look out the window. Wasn't it time for the sun to go down?

“Did you know that Fritz isn't half as good at folding napkins as I am?”

“I could do without that.”

“And what about everything else?”

She stayed silent.

“I would miss you,” he said absentmindedly. “If I was gone and couldn't talk to you anymore.”

“You would have to be able to remember to miss me. You would need to have awareness even when Fritz has his body back. How do you want to think if you don't have a brain at your disposal?”

“I do not know,” Varg responded. “But a bit of wishful thinking should be allowed.”

“Wishes rarely become true.”

“I am an optimist.”

He grinned, though it quickly faded when he sighed and slid off his chair. “It's starting. If you don't want to see me become a merciless beast you might want to leave now.”

Lucette kept staring. Varg shook his head, and it seemed like that was enough to turn his black hair gray. A second long he looked like Fritz. Then fur shot out of his face and his arms. His body arched, his shoulders grew up to the roof beams. He fell forward, catching himself with his arms that rapidly morphed into front legs. Claws scratched across the floor, his tail brushed the wall. His clothes had disappeared, replaced by thick fur that covered skin and muscles. Only the clothesline was still wrapped around his left rear paw.

“Fritz?”

The wolf turned around, twitched his ears and wagged with his tail. He did it gently, having knocked over more chairs in the last week.

“Can you remember what Annice said about the man with the Wolfssegen?”

Fritz tilted his head and curled up on the floor. Lucette got up from her chair to sit next to him.

“According to the people he sells charms for protection from the wolf. Against you.”

Fritz gave a quiet whimper.

“They are only scared of you because they don't know you, so don't take it to heart. If I had it my way I would go and ask him for help. But Delora said I should concentrate on my magic. She says that I am egoistic.”

Fritz blinked, his head resting on his paws.

“Do you think she is right?” she whispered.

He softly nudged her with his muzzle. She stroked his fur.

“Delora told me to worry about Angielle first. But I am, right? I managed to destroy one of Waltz' barriers. I can take care of two things, Angielle and the curse. And I am not asking you for your opinion, because I know what you would answer.”

He didn't move.

“What harm could be done in visiting that man?” Lucette mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question: do the dialogues or expressions get repetitive, especially when reading a few chapters in one go? If so I will try to use new ones. Thank you for reading, anyway!


	8. Wolfssegen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucette meets the merchant.

When she awoke she was still on the floor, leaning against Fritz. Outside it had slowly started to dawn. Everyone else seemed to be fast asleep, Lucette could not even hear Annice in the kitchen. She let go of Fritz and got to her feet.  
“I have to go. Don’t tell anyone where I am, Varg.”

Fritz licked his muzzle. As soon as the sun rose Varg would be in his place. He had told her he didn’t remember anything unimportant. Hopefully he would remember this.

“If you can hear this – don’t try to put spokes in my wheel. I will break this curse.”

Would Varg die if she did? At some point she had actually believed they would just turn into a single person, that one would take the upper hand. Varg had said that they were two different people now. If Fritz got his body back, would it be murder? Did he really have to disappear?

“Don’t make everything so complicated!” she snapped. Fritz shrank back, his tail between his legs. Lucette took a deep breath.

“I am sorry. It’s not your fault.”

She picked up her cloak. Genaro and his family had given more effort at concealing themselves, but at this hour almost no one would be on the streets. It would make her more peculiar if someone saw her, however.

She needed to try. She gave Fritz one last look.

“I will return,” she whispered and opened the door.

* * *

The air was cold this morning. At least it wouldn’t be suspicious that Lucette buried her face in her collar and wore her hood. She headed south and soon enough the first shops of the artisan’s districts came into view. The streets were completely silent. Only behind a few windows she could make out people preoccupied with preparing their shops. She passed a bakery and stopped when she reached a crossroad, looking around. Then she spotted it – a stylized wolf head, drawn with chalk onto the wall just above the ground. She hesitated a second, then followed the direction the wolf was facing.

She had taken the right path. Only a few buildings further she spotted more drawings. If the way was this easy to find, why had the soldiers not found the man yet? Maybe it was Alcaster’s trap, set to catch the people who were still trusting witches. A lure to drive the witches out of their hideouts. Maybe Delora had been right. Lucette bit her lip. Was it too late to turn back?

“What are you doing here? The curfew isn’t lifted until six in the morning.”

Lucette flinched and pressed herself into a house entrance. The firm voice came from one of the back streets. Another man answered.

“We are very sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear apologies, I want an explanation.”

“Today is market day,” a woman answered with a shaky voice. “You have to arrive early to secure a good stall.”

“But the other merchants will adhere to the law and arrive later, too.”

“We didn’t think of that.”

“Strange that you just forgot. Ignoring the curfew is a resistance against the authority. Especially in this district, where we expect witches to hide.”

“But not with us, officer!” the woman affirmed. “We wouldn’t put up with that.”

“Do you live nearby?”

“Yes.”

“Then go back immediately and stay there until six.”

“Of course,” the other man vowed. “Please excuse us. It won’t happen again.”

Quick steps departed. Lucette huddled in the shadows, her heart raced uncontrollably. The voice issued an order, more footsteps set into motion, heavy boots marching in step. They moved away.

Lucette let out a shaky breath. She had forgotten about the curfew. Someone must have seen her. If she wanted to find the merchant she had to hurry.

She followed the alley until another wolf turned up on the wall of a side street. The way was well marked. It was no surprise that they expected witches to live here. Why was the man that reckless? Maybe it was a protection spell to hide the signs. She remembered that there were spells to prevent someone from being discovered, so it must have been possible to do the same for hiding objects from enemies.

She didn’t see anyone else, not even more soldiers. The wolf heads guided her through the sleeping town until she ended up in a narrow alleyway. At the end of it was a dark wooden door with another wolf at its base. It was facing her.

Maybe it was a trap. Lucette took a few deep breaths and created a shield before she knocked.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Behind the door something fell over and shattered on the floor. A muffled curse followed.

“I will be there in a moment!” a rough voice came from inside. Footsteps came closer and the door was opened slightly.

“Come in quickly. The patrol is long overdue.”

Lucette stepped inside. She found herself in a single room. It was lit by a lantern that stood on a wooden table overflowing with vials containing colorful liquids, scribbled notes and small bags whose contents she couldn’t make out. Small white amulets hung from the walls and a scratched up beam, attached with leather straps. Next to a ragged bed stood a half-emptied bowl with gnawed off animal bones.

“It must be urgent if you are here at this early hour,” the man growled. “What can I…”

He stopped, his back now leaning against the closed door. He was old, at least seventy years old, with sunken cheeks and a short stubble. His dull eyes were fixed on her.

“Princess,” he said.

Lucette smoothed her dress. “Are you the one who sells Wolfssegen?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “You don’t recognize me. I assume that means my disguise is convincing.”

“Disguise?”

It elicited a hoarse laugh from him. “Your mother would be embarrassed to see me like this. Then again she would also be embarrassed by you. Perhaps it’s only fair.”

Lucette stumbled backward. “Mythros?”

“Mythros,” he said slowly. “That was one of my names.”

He reeked of alcohol. Lucette wrinkled her nose.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, willing herself to stay calm. “I thought you would have fled the town by now.”

“Why should I?”

“You are aware that Alcaster is persecuting all witches, right?”

“Naturally. And? I could leave Angielle with ease, but why should I? Hildyr is dead.”

Lucette frowned. “Alcaster betrayed you, took the throne and killed my mother. And you sit around and do nothing?”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked. “My only wish was to see Hildyr on the throne and to serve her. Her only heir is you, and you betrayed her.”

His tongue was heavy. He didn’t even sound angry.

“So you live here?” She made a face. “And sell magic tricks to people.”

“One has to make money somehow, princess.” He reached for one of the leather straps that hung next to the door. “Interested in Wolfssegen? Works perfectly against wolf attacks. You can buy three for the price of two, because it’s you.”

“You left tracks leading to your home. Do you really believe that Alcaster won’t find you?”

“So let him. I would rather die in a fight against a soldier than… in a different way. Furthermore I don’t believe that one of my clients will give my location away. The business is going well.”

“I couldn’t tell from your housing,” Lucette noted and kicked a bottle lying on the floor.

“The common people are far from condemning magic as much as Alcaster,” Mythros continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “At least it helps them with their daily lives. How do you protect yourself from evil magic? With good magic. Not by burning witches as Alcaster has in mind. You cannot trust him to find every single one of them, so a small charm might work wonders.”

He dangled the amulet in front of her face. Annoyed she fetched it out of his hands and inspected it.

“That looks like a bone.”

“A chicken bone,” he confirmed.

“And that is supposed to ward off wolves?”

“It’s not about the object but the spell it has been enchanted with.”

“You are actually able to make it work?”

“Perhaps,” Mythros answered laconically. “Perhaps not. It certainly cannot cause harm. They are scared of the wolf roaming about, so even if the charm has no actual effect it at the very least calms their nerves. You cannot claim that they do not receive anything for their money.”

“And the wolf? Are you not worried about him?”

Mythros narrowed his eyes. “You have a brass neck, asking me that, princess.”

“Right, it is a foolish question. You cursed him. Of course he would not attack you.”

He blinked a few times. Then a grin stretched across his face.

“Me?”

“Don’t take me for an idiot!” Lucette hissed. “It is Fritz. You cursed him once and now you have done it again, for whatever reason-”

“Did he tell you that?” he interrupted her.

“Fritz? He has a memory gap.”

He huffed. “I am not talking about him.”

“Varg?”

“Princess.”

It took her a few seconds to understand. “You mean Waltz?”

Mythros’ lips trembled. “Don’t you dare mention his name in my house.”

“What doe Waltz have to do with this?”

“You share so few of Hildyr’s traits. She was such an intelligent woman.”

Lucette shook her head, trying to make sense of her spinning thoughts. “That night, only two witches were in the palace. You and Waltz. Waltz cannot have cursed him. What would he gain by doing so?”

“Yes, what? Other than a giant wolf that can tear through magic barriers and that would have mauled me if I hadn’t gotten out of the affair.”

Lucette swallowed.

“You don’t want to believe me.” Mythros shook his head. “You believe that Waltz is a good person who would never do a bad thing. That is an illusion, princess. People do so much when they feel threatened. Trust is a sentimental vice. If Hildyr could see you she would be mortified.”

The curse couldn’t have been imposed by Waltz. Why didn’t he say anything? Lucette grabbed door knob.

“Where are you going, princess?”

She didn’t answer and hastily withdrew her hand from the knob. It had started to smolder. Lucette whirled around to look at Mythros who had raised his hands. His eyes were almost as glassy as Waltz’ when he had been feverish.

“I think we-”

The notes on his table caught fire, one of the flasks exploded. Mythros screamed when a wave of magic knocked him off his feet. Lucette kicked against the door that burst open and stormed outside.

She had attacked a human and wasn’t sure if she had wanted to.

* * *

Two streets away she had to stop, gasping for air. Her heart leapt into her throat, nausea overwhelmed her. Waltz had taught her offensive magic. She had trained to use it on others. It was foolish to be upset.

Maybe Waltz had cursed Fritz.

She couldn’t think straight, nothing made sense to her. Mythros could have lied. Was he still alive? He had to be, no one died from being thrown around a little. Unless one hit his head. Lucette’s legs felt weak. She clutched her hands. She would not go back. It was still early, she probably had woken up all the neighbors and alarmed the guards. She pulled her hood down over her face and looked around. If only it was six. By now she would have preferred a few passersby she could hide behind to the empty streets. Hopefully she would find the way back to the Marchen. She regretted not going outside more in the past.

Would Mythros follow her? She glimpsed over her shoulder. No trace of him. After her visit he likely would change his hideout. His fear of Fritz had been obvious. If he feared that she would lead Fritz to him? She wasn’t sure if she would do that – but Fritz had to know what had happened. And Waltz had to answer.

She ended up running along a few alleys that passed behind several shops. Here and there were old crates and withered trees, similar to the Marchen’s backyard. Just as she turned around another corner she heard a familiar voice.

“Why isn’t he here?”

Only a short distance ahead of her stood a man and a woman next to a stack of crates. Both carried baskets on their backs and put their heads together.

“Something must have come up,” the woman responded. Lucette recognized her voice as well. It was the pair that had pretended to head for the market.

“Do you think he was busted? But we would have heard about an arrest, wouldn’t we? And he didn’t carry anything incriminating, did he?”

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but she froze, her mouth still half open, when her gaze fell on Lucette. The man turned around and became pale as a ghost.

“I will not tell anyone about this,” Lucette whispered and raised her hands. “No matter what you are doing.”

Both stared at her. Behind her steps grew loud. The man cursed, grabbed his partner’s arm and ran into the alley.

“Stop!” a voice ordered. “In the name of the Order of Caldira!”

Lucette ran. Her hood slipped off her head. Ahead of her the pair turned around a corner. She hurried past another crate to keep up – and stumbled forward. She looked back. Her dress had gotten caught on a protruding nail. She grabbed the fabric and tore. It ripped.

“Halt!”

Lucette bit her lip. She was already out of breath. She also was the keeper of the Tenebrarum, crown princess of Angielle and it was beneath her to run like a hunted animal.

She stood, her hands raised. Several soldiers stormed towards her. The one in front gasped.

“That is-”

The next second he collided with a barrier and stumbled backwards into his comrades. Lucette didn’t stay to see what happened next. She rushed along the street, turning right and discovered the man and the woman, huddled together in a house entrance.

“They can’t follow us,” Lucette croaked. “I blocked the way. They might take a detour to trap us.”

“We have to take this path,” the man said and pointed to a narrow passage. “They won’t find that one.”

Lucette followed them. She relied on two strangers she had only met a minute ago. Hildyr would have thrown up her hands in horror.

Their escape route led them through a lot of back streets like the first, dusty and dark. She had never seen this side of the kingdom. Her feet hurt, as did every breath she took.

After what seemed like an eternity the pair slowed down. Lucette caught up to them. To her surprise they had arrived at a broader road she remembered. She could find the way from here. It must have been past six by now, a few people made their way through the streets. Lucette pulled her hood up and lowered her head.

“Your Highness!” the man said with a low voice. “Is your father safe?”

She hesitated for a moment. The pair had most likely saved her life, and even if she still didn’t know their names there was no reason to lie.

“Yes.”

Both of them sighed with relief. “I told you,” the woman blurted out.

“I need to go. Don’t follow me and don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“Your Highness,” the woman began, but Lucette turned around and fled. There was no sound behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fan disservice at its finest.  
> (Seriously, though - the only thing scarier than an angry Mythros is a Mythros who just doesn't care anymore)
> 
> Also I think that's a new record for translating and drawing pictures - 3 days. I drew both pictures today. On to the next!


	9. The Fox and the Geese

Lucette allowed herself to pause a moment before she opened the door to the Marchen.

The room was empty, just as it had been for the last several days. For whatever reason two tables had been pushed next to the door, the chairs belonging to them had been piled up behind them.

Annice almost dropped her glass when Lucette entered.

“Princess! Where were you? Delora was worried. We thought something happened to you.”

“I am well. Where is everyone?”

“Running around like headless chickens.”

Lucette looked to her left. Varg had moved a chair in front of a table and drank coffee. He certainly didn't seem nervous. Annice must have noticed Lucette's confusion as she cleared her throat.

“There was an incident with the shields. But nothing bad happened.”

Varg scoffed. “Tell that the local witch! She acted like the world was coming to an end.”

“That's no laughing matter,” Lucette hissed.

“That's rich coming from you, princess.” Varg poured milk into his coffee and stirred carefully. “The keeper of the Tenebrarum, who should stop her romantic daydreaming and get off her ass to keep her country and its people safe. To quote Delora.” He shot her a glance. “That was the gist of it, anyway.”

Someone descended the stairs and they turned their head. It was Waltz who smiled in relief as he noticed Lucette.

“There you are! We were so worried about you.”

“I am fine.”

“You seem upset,” Waltz noted. “And your dress is torn. What happened?”

She clutched her skirt and stared at him. “Did you curse Fritz?”

The color drained from his face. “What do you mean?”

“I visited the man who sold Wolfssegen.”

“And?” Varg asked. “Did he turn out to be a storyteller?”

“It's Mythros.”

Varg choked on his coffee and coughed.

“He changed his appearance,” Lucette explained. “He probably kept his home a secret from the soldiers by using magic. Also he truly sells charms against wolves. He must want to protect himself from Fritz and experiments around. He told me that Fritz had attacked him as a wolf.”

Waltz rubbed the back of his neck, apparently not sure what to say. “I am sorry.”

“So it was you?” she asked.

“We had no time. I was hurt and knew I had no chance against Mythros. Fritz said he would do anything to stop him.”

“Are you sure he meant with ' _anything_ ' that wolf?” Her voice came out shrill.

“He said ' _anything_ ',” Waltz insisted. “I knew that Fritz had a so-called wolf personality. I thought it couldn't be too difficult to call it and set it onto Mythros, even if curses are not my field of expertise.”

“Wait!” Varg gasped for air and raised his hand. “First of all, next time you curse me at least do it right. Second, what in the world were you thinking? A new version of Little Red Riding Hood?”

Waltz shook his head. “Have you heard of _The Boy Who Cried Wolf_?”

“Doesn't ring a bell. Recently there have been many people who cried wolf, though, after Fritz dragged you here.” He ran a hand through his hair and huffed.

“So is Fritz the boy?”

Waltz smiled wryly. “I assume he would have liked to be.”

Lucette chewed on her lips. “How can we break the curse?”

“I don't know.”

“You cursed him, Waltz! If anyone know how to break it, then you!”

Waltz wrung his hands. “I wasn't thinking straight. Mythros was there, he would have killed us both. Fritz was ready to make that sacrifice. I am sorry, Lucette, I really am. Please believe me.”

For a second he seemed to be close to tears. Lucette's lips trembled, so she bit down. Before she could respond Delora came down the stairs behind Waltz, clinging onto the rail. She stared into space with a blank expression before she noticed Lucette. She frowned, straightening herself.

“Oh. So you deigned to come back?”

“I found out about Fritz' curse,” Lucette said.

“I you weren't so lucky you would have returned from your informative trip only to find the Marchen in ruins.”

“The danger wasn't that great,” Waltz objected softly.

“The Marchen had no protection for half an hour. Half an hour! If someone against magic had found us, and here are many people like that...”

“I met people who cared about father's wellbeing.”

“You wandered the streets, talked to townspeople _and_ you visited the merchant?”

“It's Mythros.”

“You showed yourself to Mythros who now knows that you are alive and staying in this town. Brilliant.”

“Can I do anything to make it up to you, Delora?”

“Accepting that your behavior was irresponsible would be a start.”

“I know about Fritz' curse now. Once I have gotten rid of it I can fully concentrate on the Tenebrarum.”

Delora pursed her lips. “Then I hope for your sake that there is a later.”

She turned around and rushed upstairs, her cape flowing behind her. Waltz watched her with a worried expression.

“Rumpel and I already tried out some defense measures,” Annice said in an attempt to reassure her. “I mean, we tried how we can barricade the door. That's why it is a bit chaotic.”

“I gave constructive advice,” Varg added.

Annice peered at him. “One of them almost caused Rumpel to break his arm.”

“That's because he ignored my instructions, since none of you seem to trust me.”

“I am sorry.”

All three stared at her.

“I was careless. The soldiers almost arrested me, and Mythros attacked me – at least I think he did. And the incident just now. I didn't give it enough consideration.”

“Everything turned out okay, Lucette,” Waltz said. “It wasn't your fault.”

“It is, in a way.” Varg raised an eyebrow.

Lucette took a deep breath. “Waltz? Do you have time to help me with my magic?”

He looked at her with wide eyes before he found his voice. “I do, but... you aren't...”

“I don't know if I am angry with you. But I can't afford to ignore you because someone has to teach me.” She did her best to keep her face straight. “And Delora doesn't seem like she will forgive me. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Anytime.”

“That must be true love.” Varg emptied his cup of coffee and placed it forcefully on the table. ”Annice, do we have a fairy-tale book?”

“Parfait has one,” Annice answered tentatively. “I could get it.”

“What do you want with that?” Lucette asked.

“Well, what do you think? I will try to find out more about _my_ curse.”

She didn't feel like reacting to his provocation. “Fine, then I won't have to do that. Let's go, Waltz.”

* * *

In the course of the day Lucette noticed that she had no trouble throwing fireballs at Waltz anymore. Maybe it had been a matter of attitude.

  


At midday she was tired, her head hurt and her anger at Waltz had disappeared.

“If you hadn't done it both of you would have died,” she said as they took a short break on the stairs. Waltz let out a long breath. “I am glad you think so. I would have told you sooner, but I had hoped I could solve the problem on my own.”

“Without anyone noticing? Then you were lucky that Varg and Fritz couldn't remember anything.”

“Or that Fritz refused to tell you. I assume he knew about it. He was conscious the whole time.”

“Then why didn't he answer when I asked him about his curse?”

“Maybe he didn't want you to feel hurt.”

Lucette blinked. “That sounds like Fritz.”

“Yes, because he is an idiot,” Varg's voice rang out behind them. “Did you know that the curse basically is a Wolfbann?”

Lucette turned back to face him. “A what?”

“The counterpart to a Wolfssegen. A Wolfbann is a malevolent spell that calls a wolf to attack a person or an object.”

“I didn't know there was a term for that,” Waltz admitted. “I simply came up with it. Did you read the story?”

“Yes. Not a whole lot happens. To make things more interesting you could use your puppets to make a play out of it. Do you have a crocodile? I always liked that the most.”

Waltz softly shook his head. “I think I should go inside and help Delora. I will tell her about your progress. That might calm her down a little.”

“So no story time?” Varg shook his head, pretending to be hurt. Waltz smiled apologetically and went inside. Varg raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and looked at Lucette.

“He sure was in a hurry to get away.”

“I couldn't even ask him if we will continue the lesson,” Lucette said.

“You'd better. Your disappearance this morning certainly wasn't your finest hour. Everyone panicked. They even thought about searching for you.”

She swallowed. Waltz had said that it hadn't been her fault, and the others had just been glad to have her back. No one had told her any details, not even Delora. Since when was Varg the only one who was honest to her?

“I wasn't thinking.”

“Then you have the chance to do that next time. Otherwise I will have to track you again and knock some sense into you.”

Despite his words she knew that it wasn't a threat. He was about to head inside but she grabbed his sleeve and held him back. He stiffened, then slowly turned around.

“You are so serious. The Varg I know would have been amused that I scared others.”

Varg scoffed. “These people kept me a prisoner, but some of them tended to my wounds and gave me food.” He looked down at his hands, then at Lucette. “Not everything is black and white, princess. And...” He fell silent, his gaze hardened.

“And?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you might not know me as well as you think you do?”

He freed himself from her grasp and headed inside without looking back.

* * *

They sat down at one of the tables that had not been pushed in front of the door. The wood at the entrance had scratches everywhere by now and she couldn't help but wonder if they would ever go away. Annice served them potatoes and fried eggs, then headed upstairs. Varg took his knife and stabbed the yellow of the egg, causing it to leak all over the plate. She simply watched for a few seconds before tearing her eyes away.

“So, what is this story about?”

“It's about a shepherd boy who tends sheep,” Varg said and put a piece of the egg into his mouth. “Out of boredom he shouts that a wolf is attacking him. The townsfolk come to his aid, but as they see that the boy lied they get angry and leave. One day a wolf really does attack. The boy calls for help...”

“And no one comes?”

Varg nodded and pursed his lips. “And that is why Fritz turns into a wolf. It would have been funnier if no one believed him anymore once he opened his mouth. Since Waltz didn't have time he just used the first wolf fable that came to his mind, I guess.”

“Unless,” Lucette added, “it really is about the fact that no one believes him. Maybe Fritz knew something about the coup Alcaster and Mythros were planning.”

“As far as I know he had no idea. Don't you think that he would have told you about it?”

“Unless he only heard of Mythros' plan and told Alcaster about it – who feigned ignorance because he had his own plans. Maybe he didn't say anything because he thought no one would believe him. Jurien's and Garlan's dismissals might have been a cautionary example.”

Varg continued massacring his fried egg. “You think that stopped him?”

“No, you are right. Fritz is completely loyal to the king. If he had known about a threat he would have protected Angielle, whether it costed him his reputation or his life.”

“Unhealthy attitude,” Varg said.

“In the end it doesn't matter how the story relates to the curse.” Lucette brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It's just important that we break it. Just how?”

“The boy gets harmed because no one wants to help him,” Varg stated. “So he likely has to fight the wolf himself and earn his credibility back.”

“That would make Mythros the wolf. Waltz spoke the curse to fight him.”

“But Mythros is hiding in the town doing nothing,” Varg took another bite of the fried egg. “To render him even more harmless we would have to kill him.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

“I know where he is,” Lucette said.

Varg laughed. “And you want to lead me to him so I can murder him? That's not better than killing him yourself, princess.”

She felt her cheeks grow hot. Maybe Hildyr and her were more alike than she had hoped.

“It's the only way to break it,” she hissed.

“But it's murder.”

“Fritz is a knight. He learned how to kill.”

Varg's lips curled into a lopsided, bitter sneer. “There is a difference between killing an enemy in a fight and murdering someone. The latter doesn't fit your dear Fritz, don't you think? If Waltz turned him into the wolf to deal with Mythros, however, Fritz might have to kill him while he is a wolf.”

“Fritz agreed to it. He told Waltz he would do anything to save Angielle.”

“So he decided to commit murder? Why am I the bad guy again?”

“The end justifies the means."

Varg shot up. Mr. Broom swished across the floor, once again planting himself before Varg.

"Get off my back!" Varg barked. "I've got to go. Drank too much coffee."

  


"Varg, we can talk-"

He rushed outside. Lucette eyed his half-emptied plate and sighed. Varg had obeyed Mythros, but even back at the castle he had done so reluctantly. Back then he had denied it, but now... things had changed.

Still, Varg had said that Fritz wouldn't murder anyone. And if anyone knew what Fritz would do, it was him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translating this chapter made me wonder if any of you who are not from Germany know the "Kasperle-Theater". Kasper (or Kasperle) was the main character, he had a friend called Gretel while the crocodile was one of the bad guys. 
> 
> Also I feel like I should say this: the talking and sitting around at the Marchen won't last forever.   
> *sigh*  
> Damn you, Alcaster.
> 
>  
> 
> As usual, please notify me if there are awkward phrases or other mistakes.


	10. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Calm before the Storm

Lucette inspected her old dress on the bed. The needlework had to wait. There were more important matters than ripped clothes. Since Jurien and Garlan had decided to practice swordfighting in the backyard and Waltz didn't show up again she had to resort to training with Mr. Broom.

Her first barrier managed to keep him from touching a bit of dirt on the floor for about ten minutes. After that her strength dwindled. Most of the time it didn't take him more than a few tries to break through her shields.

“I thought Waltz had sugarcoated your improvement, but it seems that you really did improve.”

Lucette turned her head as Delora's voice rang out from behind her. She watched as Delora slowly made her way down the last steps. At least she didn't cling to the rail as she had in the morning. Mr. Broom danced over to greet her, but Delora sent him into the corner with a wave of her hand.

“I tried,” Lucette said.

Delora smiled, walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of some clear liquid. “Good. That helps everyone.”

A few seconds of silence passed.

“I was irresponsible this morning. I want to apologize.”

“That I would ever hear that from you.”

“Don't become used to it. How serious was the situation?”

Delora sipped her drink. “The spells we had been keeping upright broke down completely. Alcaster could not exploit it, though I fear that it was pure luck. To be honest I do not know how long it will be until it happens again.” She didn't look at Lucette, even when she sat down on a chair next to her.

“Could I have done anything if I had been there? What could I have done?”

“I can show you how it works tomorrow. Your powers would be useful. And even if not – I would like to be surrounded by my loved ones when it comes to an end.”

Lucette's jaw dropped. “What?”

“I am sorry.” Delora put down her glass, shook her head and turned her mouth into a small smile. “I am talking nonsense.”

She avoided looking at Lucette and scratched at her nails. The red color had chipped. Even if she held her head high, her shoulders were slumped, her face was paler than usual.

“Everything will be okay, Delora. I will stay here and protect the Marchen. I promise.”

“You have a good heart, Lucette. Not even Hildyr could change that.” Delora closed her eyes. “Sometimes I wish my daughter would have become like you.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Had. Hildyr killed her.”

Lucette froze.

“She has been on my mind rather often these days. I had promised to never lose someone close to me again.”

“I didn't know that,” Lucette mumbled.

Delora looked at her, but it seemed to take her a few seconds before she recognized Lucette. “Oh, quit listening to me. This is no time to lament about events that happened so long ago. We need to think of the future. Where are the others?”

“Jurien and Garlan are training in the backyard and Varg is in the bathroom. He hasn't left it for a while.”

Delora raised an eyebrow and Lucette shrugged. “I knocked and asked him what he was doing, but he didn't respond. I doubt that he will try to crawl through the toilet to escape.”

“I will leave him to you, then. If anything happens, I am upstairs.” She emptied the glass in one go and placed it in the sink.

“Delora?” Lucette blurted out.

She was already at the stairs. “Yes?”

“Alcaster killed Mother. With one sword thrust. Even if she must have had shields that no one could break without magic.”

Delora furrowed her brows. “And now you think that I have something to do with it? Do you believe I worked with Alcaster?”

“Did you want Hildyr's death?”

Delora looked at her for a long time. “I thought a lot about it. I can assure you that I was not involved in her death.”

Lucette remained silent.

* * *

 

She had planned to continue her lesson, but Mr. Broom was not willing to help. Lucette tugged at her simple dress she had changed into, the only one she had kept at the Marchen. Her times as the crown princess were over, once and for all. If Varg had seen her like that he probably would have commented on it.

With a sigh she made her way down the corridor that led to the latrine. The door was still locked.

“Varg?”

No reaction.

“Tell me you are in there or I will have to break open the door.”

“You can do that?” Varg asked. “Do you have a spell for that?”

“I will burn the door down if I have to.”

He huffed.

“Don't you want to come out?” Lucette asked. “You will have to come out at sunset, anyway.”

“I still have about four hours. Until then I can reflect.”

“About what?”

“About life and death. What a life is worth.”

His answer stunned her. He did not sound sarcastic.

“Mythros' life?”

“Fritz' and mine,” Varg responded. “Since one of us will die if the curse is broken.”

He sounded bitter. Lucette leaned against the closed door.

“Maybe both of you survive. Maybe... maybe you become one.”

“Nonsense. We might have been two split personalities once, but we grew apart. Don't try to make me believe otherwise, princess. One of us will vanish.”

“Who?”

“Perhaps the one with the weaker will. Perhaps the one who isn't needed any longer. We both know who that is. I am neither here nor there. I wasn't intended to be truly alive. I was created for a reason, to obey without questioning. I failed, so I landed here. I haven't followed orders for a long time.”

She had not been prepared for this. Part of her wanted to flee from this conversation, didn't want everything to become even more difficult. Lucette interlaced her fingers, searching for the right words. “That might have been the reason Mythros created you. You are more than that now.”

He made no sound for a while. “Do you really believe that?”

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Varg, did Mythros teach you to fold napkins?”

“You noticed?”

She could not stop the smile from spreading. “It came at the wrong time, but I appreciate the gesture.”

  


 

“Are you laughing right now?”

“I am not.”

“Pity.”

She brushed her hands over her mouth.

“All thanks to that idiotic curse,” Varg snarled. “You know, now that I have considered it, the old curse was not that bad.  If we could get that one back, wouldn't that be a solution?”

“You mean with both of you having human bodies?”

“If we could learn to change voluntarily and not with the daytime. What would you say to that?”

“I would say those are daydreams, Varg.”

“Why so pessimistic? You were the one who said that I am more than what I was created as.”

Lucette traced the door's grain with her fingers. “Yes. But you were always rivals, Fritz and you. Would you be able to get along?”

“We do have one thing in common.”

“Which one?”

He chuckled. “Princess. Come on.”

Lucette buried her face in her hands, then ran her fingers through her hair. “I do not understand how you want to make this work, Varg. How do you want to get the old curse back?”

“Wouldn't it be enough to get rid of the wolf? It should be easy for Fritz to find Mythros. As a wolf he has a perfect sense of smell - the memory of it is so vivid that even I can remember it. Everyone in the Marchen smells different, so he should be able to do it.”

“He cannot just wander the streets! The townsfolk would panic.”

“So what? He can only travel at night and the night curfew has not been lifted. Even if people spot him from their windows no one will get hurt.”

Lucette bit her lip. “It's too dangerous. For both of you. And...” Her voice became quieter. “It's murder, Varg. Do you think Fritz would want that?”

“What about you?” Varg asked. “Do you want us to break this curse, no matter what?”

She hoped that her voice sounded firm. “It's not important what I think. It's about both of you.”

“Fritz will do what you believe is right.”

“And you?”

He stayed silent at first, then gave a short, humorless laugh.

”It would be easier for you if I just disappeared. Sorry to say, princess, but I fail at that, as well. I don't want to d-”

She slammed her fist into the door and heard something shift behind it, moving away.

“I don't want you two to be cursed! I want everything to be okay again. I want us to be able to live in peace.”

Varg hesitated a moment. “Would you still love Fritz if he was a murderer?”

It might have been the first time he used the word love. Lucette had to swallow repeatedly, glad that Varg could not see her face.

“Yes.”

Varg did not answer.

“Are you not going to ask about yourself?”

“No. I don't want to embarrass you.”

She wiped across her forehead, not sure if she would have preferred if he had asked. “Do you want to stay in there forever?” she asked.

“I still have time until dawn. I assume you will not try to run away again.”

“No. I endangered everyone when I tried to help both of you today, and I will not do it again.”

“Both of us,” Varg murmured.

She had no idea what else to say.

* * *

 

Lucette tried to conjure more shields in her room, however after a few unsuccessful attempts she gave up. She simply couldn't concentrate. It was so confusing. She thought of Fritz and his smile, and Varg, who had asked her if she laughed, who was Fritz and yet not, who had once been an enemy but who had changed. Ignoring him had not worked. Now she could not bring herself to call him either an enemy or wish for him to disappear. She just didn't want to give up Fritz. Still, if they really accomplished to get rid of the wolf and both were human again – would it be easier or only complicate the situation?

* * *

 

Apparently she had fallen asleep on her bed. She jolted when a knock sounded at her door.

“Come in.”

Rumpel opened the door. “Hello, Lucette. I hope I don't disturb you.”

She sat up and adjusted her braid. “Not exactly. What is it?”

“I just wanted to make sure that you are alright.

She shook her head.

“If it interests you, you still have the freshness of a summer morning.”

Lucette looked at him askance. “Until now the number of your awful compliments had luckily decreased.”

“I apologize,” Rumpel said, tugging at his collar. “I had hoped to lighten the mood a little by providing a bit of normalcy.”

“You and normalcy?”

“It was worth a try.”

“How is Parfait?” Lucette asked. “Are the shields still working?”

“So far both are reasonably well. I was about to head to the kitchen and get Parfait something to eat.”

She stood up. “I will come with you.”

“Because of Varg?”

Lucette looked out of the window. “By now he must have turned into Fritz. I have to talk to him.”

Rumpel sighed softly. “Waltz mentioned a fairy tale. It just keeps getting more and more complicated, doesn't it?”

“You have no idea,” she grumbled.

* * *

 

The guest room was dark. Lucette couldn't spot anyone between the chairs and tables.

“Fritz?”

Rumpel walked over to the counter, found matches and lit a lantern hanging from the ceiling. Light fell onto the clothesline on the floor. The end had been bitten off. Next to it lay a slightly crumpled napkin that had been folded into a boat. The entrance door was wide open, one side of the frame had splinted.

“Fritz!” Lucette called.

“Not so loud!” Rumpel hissed. “What if someone hears you?”

Lucette stumbled to the napkin and picked it up. Someone had written on it in messy handwriting.

_If you kill Mythros she will still love you._

“Fritz is gone,” Lucette whispered.

“Where is he going?”

“I know where. I have to call him back.”

“Lucette! Delora said-”

She was already out the door. “The people will see Fritz running amok. I will find him and bring him back as soon as possible. Please tell her I am sorry.”

She would never forgive herself if the Marchen came to harm, but Fritz put everyone at risk. Lucette turned her back to Rumpel and fled into the night.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the main difference between Game!Varg and Wolfbann!Varg – he does not decide that the best solution to this problem is to just kill himself.   
> If you had asked me whether I would ever consider a guy pouring his heart out while locked in a bathroom could give me the feels I would have laughed at you.  
> Then this happened.  
> We have no experience writing romance and are kind of nervous that the pacing is way too weird. If you have complaints, please tell us. (not going to complain about having to add more of that. coughs)


	11. Wolfbann

The streets were as empty as they had been in the morning, though they were brighter this time. The moon and most of the windows cast light on her way. Lucette searched for the wolf symbol on the bakery's wall. It had vanished.

She suppressed a gasp as a window next to her opened an inch and a woman gawked at her. “Go home, quick!” she whispered. “The werewolf is back!”

Then the woman's eyes widened. “Your Highness?”

She should have taken her coat with her, but it was too late for that now. “Where did the werewolf go?” she asked.

“This way. But you don't really want to-”

“Thank you!”

Lucette rushed along the alley, the cold wind tangled her hair and caused her to shiver. Had the woman sounded worried for her?

The woman had only given her a rough direction, but a huge wolf could not be easy to miss. It was okay. Lucette would find Fritz and take him back to the Marchen before he could cause a panic. And before he could do something stupid.

She had said that she would still love him even if he was a murderer, and Varg had written it on the napkin. She was not sure if that had been the full truth, still she would attempt everything to stop Fritz.

The road before her forked. Here and there were lights behind the windows, but not a soul, let alone a wolf, appeared. Lucette cursed. To her left was a house with three light gray steps leading to its entrance. She was sure there had been a symbol next to them. It was gone, too.

That way would be as good any other. She had to get moving.

Only a few parts of the narrow alley were bathed in light. Something moved in the distance. She squinted, then hurried to the next entrance. A small squad of soldiers marched towards her. She held her breath, regretting that she hadn't asked Waltz to teach her a camouflaging spell.

They came closer, the flickering lights from their lanterns illuminated the stone walls.

Across her someone drew the curtains. She felt behind her back for a doorknob and turned it, but the door stayed shut. She was trapped. Now she could only hope that none of them would look to the side.

The two soldiers in the front row passed her, both men stared straight ahead. One in the second row turned his head and locked eyes with her.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned and stopped right in his tracks.  “Don't you know that...”

He stopped. The other men who had paused with him followed his gaze. Several reached for their swords. Her heart raced.

“Let me go,” she croaked out and straightened her back. She was still the crown princess of Angielle.

“The king's daughter?” one asked in disbelief.

“Of course she is,” another murmured.

She took a deep breath. “I order you to let me go.”

Their leader, who had already drawn his sword, raised his voice. “We need to ask you to follow us. We will-”

He stared at his sword. Its blade shone bright red. The soldiers closest to him stumbled back, the leader himself seemed torn on whether he should let go of it. In the end he did not, grabbing the leather hilt even harder.

“Don't let her pass!” he ordered. “Every witch is a danger to Angielle.”

“I am trying to avert danger from Angielle!” Lucette hissed. “And I will not let anyone stand in my way!”

She raised her hands. The leader held her gaze, refusing to lower his sword, even though Lucette herself could feel the heat emanating from it. He was still rather young, with a narrow scar on his chin. She could throw a fireball in his face, it had worked with Waltz. The man also had no shield. She could have disfigured him for the rest of his life, maybe even kill him. He knew that, yet refused to retreat. Alcaster could not have been such a poor ruler if he could inspire such loyalty in his followers.

Then the man finally swallowed and lowered his sword. Two of his subordinates made way. She took her chance and slipped through, running as fast as she could. No one followed her.

Why? Were they following her, luring her into a trap to watch where she went? She banished the thought, focusing on the way instead. The only thing at the end of their path would be a set of teeth.

She was gasping by the time she arrived at Mythros' house. Her intuition that he would flee had been correct. The door had been unhinged and lay on the inside of the dark room. Broken fragments of glass and a silver, sandy substance covered the ground in front of it. The wall opposite of it showed a deep crack. She feverishly scanned her surroundings until she saw another broken window down the road.

“Fritz!” she called and raced after him. She did not care that people could hear her. If no one had appeared when Fritz had wreaked havoc they were in another part of the town.

As she passed the broken window she found herself face to face with two women in nightgowns. They just stared at her with wide eyes. One grasped her bone amulet around her neck.

They would be of no help. Lucette picked up her pace. Still no sound other than her steps and heavy breathing.

She passed more signs of destruction, a young tree had been snapped, the leaves spread on the ground. To her left a terrified man, to her right a woman behind a shattered window, holding her daughter in her arms. Her lungs were burning.

“Fritz!” she repeated. There had to be a way to bring Fritz to reason. He was Fritz, after all.

A choked scream cut through the night. Lucette winced and tripped, only catching herself in the last moment. She couldn't tell whether it had been a man or a woman. The house wall in front of her had been damaged, stones were scattered on the ground. To her left was a market place with a fountain in its center. The basin had cracked, water covered the cobbled pavement. Mythros was on the ground with his back pressed against the stone railing.

His pale face was contorted into a grimace. In front of him, only two steps away, stood Fritz with raised tail and bare fangs. His fur had been scorched in several spots.

“I will leave!” Mythros screamed. He held his right arm close to his body. He was bleeding. “I will never return, I swear!”

“Fritz!” Lucette yelled.

His ears twitched. Both Fritz and Mythros turned their heads to her. Mythros let out a shaking breath.

“Can you do that, Fritz?” Lucette asked. “Maybe there is another option. You don't have to kill a helpless person.”

Fritz did not move.

“It's not like you. Your bad traits were transferred to Varg, right? You- you are Fritz. You wouldn't do that, so leave Mythros be.”

Mythros leaned forward with a crooked smile. His eyes were red but dry. His beard was still tangled, even more than it had been in the morning. He looked even older, the creases in his face even deeper from fear and exhaustion. Fritz' face was that of a wolf and Lucette could not recognize anything.

  


“Hildyr,” Mythros whispered.

Fritz snarled and jumped.

“Fritz!” She was screaming now.

“Don't kill me!” Mythros hid his face behind his unhurt arm. “I will not come back, but please, please-”

Fritz grabbed his throat, yanked him off the ground and shook him like prey. Lucette turned around and shut her eyes, but it was already too late. The image of Mythro's lifeless limbs dangling above the ground would not leave. Only when she heard something heave hit the ground she dared to look.

Mythros was a bundle of clothes and hair. His blood seeped into the surrounding puddles. Above him towered Fritz, his head low, the fur of his neck still raised. His flanks rose and sank in sudden movements. Dark blood caused the fur of his muzzle and paws to stick together.

 

  


 

 

“You did it,” she uttered. Her mind was blank. Murder, Varg had said. It took her a moment to realize something else.

“Nothing is happening.”

Fritz whined faintly, his tail tucked between his legs. Her legs threatened to fail her. She thought of the curfew, the soldiers. They had to leave.

“Let's go. It is over.”

Fritz hesitantly walked over to her, his head still lowered. He licked over his muzzle to get rid of the blood, then whined again. He opened his jaw and let his tongue hang out, as if he could not stand the taste.

“We will clean you up at the Marchen,” Lucette said. “It will be okay.”

She reached out to touch his side, but even there were splatters of blood. She jerked her hand back, hoping that Fritz had not noticed.

“We can deal with this. It will be okay.”

He was a murderer and his curse was still not broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need something cute to cheer you up: I drew Waltz with a penguin.  
> https://dazelikesmm.tumblr.com/post/163648901277/nukaxstars-done-d-really-quick-but-i-needed  
> ._.


	12. The Devil's Sooty Brother

The way back seemed endless to her. What would she say at the Marchen? Waltz had explained what story he had used as inspiration. It made no sense that Mythros’ death did not break the curse. Had they been wrong and Mythros died in vain? In his condition he had not been a threat. Even if he had been one, had she ever really cared about him?

No. Not about Mythros, not about Angielle. Only about Fritz and his curse and by extension herself. Perhaps Genaro had been wrong and she was the same spoiled, selfish witch Hildyr had wanted her to be.

She exchanged glances with Fritz, who trotted next to her and who licked his muzzle from time to time, and forced herself to breathe. Nothing was lost. She had left the Marchen to retrieve Fritz, and she had done so. He was calm and no one but a few windows had been damaged. The fact that Mythros was dead would not cause Angielle to be less safe.

Above them opened a window and an old man in sleepwear peeked outside. “I told you, Erna!” he croaked. “The werewolf is back!”

Lucette could not hear the words that his wife said in return, but she sounded terrified.

“You don’t have to worry,” she raised her voice as far as she dared to, “he is harmless.”

The man frowned. “That’s the ice princess. Well, I’ll be a donkey’s uncle. Erna, look! The ice princess caught the werewolf and-”

Two hands grabbed him from behind and pulled him back. The window was slammed shut.

“It will be difficult to make them believe that you never were evil,” Lucette said. Fritz whimpered. At least the man believed she had tamed the wolf instead of leading him through the town to cause harm.

Once or twice she imagined eyes watching her from the homes they passed, quickly hiding when she looked inside; otherwise they crossed paths with no one.

Just when they reached the road leading to the Marchen Fritz slowed down. His ears twitched.

“What is it?”

He sniffed the air and growled. A shiver ran up her spine.

“Don’t tell me-” She gasped. “We have to hurry. Now, Fritz.”

He ran. She had no chance of keeping up with him, her side stitches returned immediately. They weren’t far from the tavern, it had to be around the next corner. Before she had even reached the corner a booming voice cut through the silence.

“We have surrounded the building. Open the door.”

Fritz stopped in his tracks. Lucette almost crashed into him. He breathed heavily. She tiptoed forward and peered around the corner. At least thirty soldiers had formed a half circle around the Marchen’s entrance that had been sealed with a flickering shield. No sounds or light came from inside, but the soldiers had brought torches.

“There are so many, Fritz,” she whispered. “How did they find it?”

“If you surrender and come out unarmed you will not be hurt,” the same soldier from before said. According to the sash draped over his armor he was the commanding officer. Lucette’s throat was dry. The Marchen’s best protection had been the fact that no one could find it. If the spells had been broken its shield would not last much longer. In any case it would not stand a siege.

“If you don’t open we will-” he began anew but fell silent as the shield faded. The soldiers in the first line raised their swords.

“Step outside slowly.”

“They cannot simply give up.” She grasped at the building’s wall, trying to steady herself. “Fritz, they can’t do that. They won’t, right?”

As if he knew them better than her. Her fingers trembled. Fritz whined quietly but didn’t dare to step forward to look for himself.

Waltz stepped outside, both hands empty and raised. Lucette could see no shield.

“That is the witch from the palace!” one man called. “Watch out, that-” he broke off with a yell as Waltz hurled a ball of fire at him. The previously built formation turned into chaos as the men scrambled to get away. The flames singed one’s hair, hit a wall and vanished.

Jurien and Garlan stormed outside, throwing themselves at the soldiers who had gotten separated from the others.

“Keep your positions!” the captain commanded. “Don’t let anyone through!”

There were still so many. Jurien plunged her sword into a man’s arm, Garlan jumped forward to dodge a hit aimed at Jurien. Neither of them left the others side. So far none had tried to get close to Waltz who kept throwing fireballs, driving the men apart.

“Fritz!”

A gray shadow raced past her and bound towards the soldiers. Several stared at him in shock.

Lucette needed a few seconds to remind herself that she was not the princess from two weeks ago. She had learned to fight. Back then she had declared that she didn’t want to hide any longer, and now her knees almost gave way.

 _No_. She was the crown princess of Angielle. Not giving herself a chance to think she left her hiding spot and rushed towards the fighters. Several had swarmed Fritz, one swung his weapon at his hind leg. Fritz spun around and kicked him with the leg his enemy had aimed at. The way towards them seemed endless. She had learned to light candles. If it had been up to her it could have stayed that way.

A window on the second floor opened and someone poured steaming water out of a bucket. The soldiers evaded it, one fell. In the blink of an eye Fritz was above him and Lucette had to force herself to look away, not to simply cover her eyes. What had she expected, anyway? A man two steps away from her gawped at the wolf and turned his head. Their eyes met. It was the group leader with the scar on his chin.

She knew she had to fight but she could not think. The man lifted his sword, his jaw set. He advanced towards her, then lost his balance and barely held himself upright. He glimpsed down. Ice head spread on the ground, holding him in place.

“Watch out, Lucette!”

She looked up. Delora stood at the window, her hands still stretched out. “Run!” she called.

Jurien screamed. Lucette spotted her on the ground, a soldier stood above her, raising his sword with both hands. As it reached the highest point he let go and it dropped with a clatter to the ground. It had started to glow. The man hastily searched for another weapon but only found Garlan who charged at him, his face distorted with rage. Lucette lowered her hand.

She was about to turn back to Delora when a window on the ground floor burst. Inside the Marchen Annice screamed. The soldier who had broken the glass threw his torch through the hole. Delora slammed the window shut.

Someone stumbled into Lucette, almost causing her to fall. It was another soldier who gritted his teeth as he recognized her. He lunged at her.

It was as if time slowed. She saw Fritz, with more blood in his fur than ever before, and Waltz, who just let one man smash into another. _A shield_ , she thought, _I need a shield_. Waltz had shown her. Her hands shook as she held them up. The blade darted at her chest and glanced off as it hit a resistance. The harsh impact of the blow caused a tremor that knocked into her chest and stomach. She staggered back, gasping for air. Nausea overwhelmed her. She barely noticed her knees hitting the ground. Breathing was all she could think of.

A muzzle bumped into her back, sending her to the ground. To her left and right towered long gray legs, coated with blood. Fritz’ deep growl was so close that the vibration spread through her whole body. With every breath he took his long fur brushed her back.

From this perspective she only saw legs, difficult to tell apart. There was Jurien, at least Lucette thought she was. At least she was still on her feet. And there was Waltz with an almost invisible flickering on the ground below his feet. The young soldier before him limped on one leg, clutching his sword so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“You could surrender,” Waltz said.

The man gasped for air. “Sir Alcaster will save Angielle. You will not stand in our way!”

Waltz hurled him away. The man collided with a tree across the street. Behind it stood two soldiers, huddled together, continuously throwing glances at their commander, who was sprawled face down in the dirt. They looked at Waltz, then at each other. As if by command they turned on their heels and fled.

“They will report at the palace,” Garlan mumbled.

“Be quiet,” Jurien chided. “We have other worries.”

Both crouched on the ground. Garlan had a wound on his forehead and Jurien tried to stop the heavy bleeding. No other soldier was standing, injured soldiers lay everywhere. _Or dead ones_. The waistcoat of a man near her had been torn up, the traces of teeth were clearly visible. Lucette looked up but only saw fur. Fritz had belonged to the Order of Caldira, just like Jurien and Garlan. Had they known some of the men they had fought?

Fritz retreated a few steps and lowered his head. His yellow eyes inspected her.

“I am unhurt,” she whispered. Her breathing had almost returned to normal, but her heart was still racing.

Waltz exhaled. His pants were ripped and bloody at both of his shins, but he stood so steady on his feet as if he didn’t feel anything. “Lucette,” he said and came over. “There was no need for you to get involved.”

“Did I cause more problems than I solved?” she asked.

“No, but-”

“Then it was good that I interfered.”

Someone took a careful step out of the Marchen. It was Annice, looking at Waltz with big eyes.

“We could extinguish the flames before they spread too far,” she blurted out.

“That is great, Annice,” Waltz said. Annice let her gaze wander over the scene. She gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth when it fell on Garlan.

“Where is Rumpel?” Jurien now knelt on the pavement, resting Garlan’s head in her lap.

Rumpel left the tavern before she had finished her sentence, rushing to her side. His eyes were red. He opened his case with dressing material.

“Garlan? Can you hear me?”

“Lucette,” Waltz said softly.

She tore her gaze away from Garlan. “Yes?”

“I am glad you found Fritz.” He nodded towards him. “Were there any incidents?”

Fritz tucked his tail between his legs. Lucette hesitated.

“We killed Mythros.”

Waltz stared at her. “You?”

Fritz yelped.

“Fritz did it,” Lucette mumbled. “But nothing changed.”

She turned her head. The soldiers carrying torches had run off, only the lanterns and a lone dropped torch radiated some light. Shards lay everywhere. Annice stared at a wounded soldier moaning quietly, but didn’t dare to move any closer.

Rumpel and Jurien were busy with Garlan. The only color in his face came from the dark red blood that had run down his cheeks and gotten into his hair. Jurien gripped his hand so tightly that it shook. Lucette raised her own hands, coated with blood and dirt from the road. She would not cry.

“I didn’t work. it just didn’t-”

Fritz bumped her with his nose, so hard that she had to grab onto his fur to keep from falling. His eyes were fixed on her and she wished he could have said something. She let go of him. His fur was full of blood. She must have looked the same, but that did not lessen her disgust.

Delora stepped out of the Marchen. After checking her surroundings she let out a long breath and changed a few words with Rumpel.

“Delora,” Lucette uttered when she turned towards her. “I am sorry. I promised I would stay. If I hadn’t left – the shields – they might not have found you…”

Her gaze fell on the lifeless soldiers in the dirt.

“It’s alright, Lucette,” Delora said softly. “There probably wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“But I promised-”

“Desperate times, desperate measures. You don’t have to cry, Lucette. We are still alive.”

She stroked over her arm and Lucette threw herself into her arms. Delora wrapped her arms around her.

“It’s okay.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Waltz heading for the Marchen. She did not feel like showing her face to anyone before she had stopped crying. Fritz laid down. If Varg had been here, what would he have said? Would he have hugged her?

She had to free Fritz from this curse to know what Varg would have done. If it had been enough to kill Mythros it would have meant to never see him again. She had not even said goodbye. It was good that she was already crying.

  


When she raised her head again Waltz, Jurien and Garlan were gone. Fritz sat up, held his nose high towards the dark sky and smelled the air. Rumpel had positioned himself next to a soldier and bandaged his hip. Annice stood next to him, shifting her weight from one leg to the next.

“Rumpel. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. We might have to hide from Alcaster’s men. We do not have the space or supplies to turn the Marchen into a hospital.”

Rumpel held his hands up. “Hippocratic oath. I am sorry, but I can not let this man bleed to death.”

“Incorrigible,” Lucette murmured. The next second she remembered that she was the princess and these men her subjects.

Delora tapped her finger to her chin. “We really need to decide what to do next. In all likelihood the Order will return with reinforcements. Now that they know where we are the Marchen is not safe.”

“So we should flee?” Lucette asked.

Annice gasped. “Give up the Marchen?”

“And leave the injured behind? What about Garlan? Parfait? She might not survive a journey!”

Delora sighed and crossed her arms. “I understand your anger, but it would be the best option. We cannot fend off the royal army. I would not be surprised if they started the next attack before sunrise. Alcaster will not rest before he has destroyed us.”

Fritz flinched so violently that Lucette shot up as well.

“What is wrong?”

He stood still for several seconds, just staring at Delora with flattened ears. Then he spun around and raced down the street.

“Fritz!” Lucette screamed. “Where are you going?”

“To the palace,” Delora said with a grave expression. “To bring this to an end.”

Lucette’s heart jumped to her throat. “But he will find even more soldiers there than here!”

“What happened?” Waltz appeared behind her.

“He will not survive it, Delora. I need to go after him.”

“Then you will not survive, either,” Delora countered.

“I will join you,” Waltz said.

Delora quickly shook her head. “We need you here, Waltz. The Marchen…”

“The Marchen will not survive a second attack, whether I am here or not. So we need to prevent a second attack.”

Lucette refused to continue that thought. Delora took a few deep breaths. Lucette followed her gaze. Annice knelt on a table, trying to cover the broken window with a plank. Rumpel had tried to stop the bleeding cut of another man. He lowered his hands with the blood-soaked cloth and took off his glasses, leaving a trail of blood on his cheek by doing so. His expression was vacant.

“Go,” Delora said.

Lucette ran.


	13. The Lost Son

This time it was so dark that she almost tripped several times. All doors and shutters stayed closed, not even the hazy, scared faces that had watched them on their trip to the Marchen appeared.

“Why didn't it work?” she panted, darting a glance at Waltz. She had trouble keeping up with him, but there was no way she would ask him to slow down.

“I don't know,” he answered. “I cursed Fritz to fight Mythros.”

“Well, that's not an option any more.”

“Maybe...” Waltz began but fell silent again.

“What?” she croaked, turned around a corner and stumbled. Waltz caught her in the last moment.

“Should I create a portal for us?”

“You are asking that now?” She gasped for air. “No, you should preserve your powers. What did you say about the curse?”

She continued on her way, ignoring the stitches in her side. Waltz kept up easily.

He didn't answer immediately. “Maybe something went wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don't know if Varg is still there.”

Lucette stared at him. “So the broken curse could mean that Fritz will be a wolf forever and Varg is just gone?”

“Who knows what can happen if someone has been cursed two times.”

“That is nonsense.” Lucette shook her head,  “It would not be fair.”

Her thoughts spun in her head. Varg had indirectly told Fritz to go and break his curse. He had risked to vanish.  _To die,_ her inner voice corrected. Fritz had done the same. Were there malicious curses that only gave one what one didn't want?  

They arrived at the broad boulevard leading to the palace. Despite the darkness the main gate was easy to recognize. There was no sign of Fritz.

“We could use the secret entrance,” Waltz said. “Then we would end up in the palace.”

“Would Fritz fit through there? He has to find a different way. Which one did you take?”

“Along here.”

Lucette followed as Waltz turned left, leading her along the fence until it suddenly broke off. Several bars were bent outwards. Between them lay splintered planks on the ground.

“Fritz tore down the fence when we first fled from the castle,” Waltz murmured to her as they got closer to the gap. “They must have built this wooden barrier after that. I wonder...”

He threw his hands upwards. Two guards coming towards them crashed right into a barrier. One fell, the other managed to regain his balance.

“Don't even think about trespassing!”

“Where is the wolf?” Waltz asked.

The man glowered at Waltz. “So it's them. The witch and his wolf from the last-”

“Is he here?” Waltz repeated.

A deep howl sounded in the distance. Lucette inhaled sharply.

“He is here.”

She climbed through the hole, Waltz right behind her. One of the guards thrust his sword into the shield. The other still sat on the ground, shaking his head in disbelief.

They raced along the westward side of the palace, and with each step the sound of screaming men and the occasional clanking of armor came closer. Lucette motioned Waltz to stop before a corner. On the sand path leading to the main stairs of the palace stood Fritz. At least ten guards surrounded him, numerous had already fallen.

“Fritz!” Lucette yelled.

He turned his head to her, swatting two soldiers aside in the process. A broken lance protruded from his right shoulder, but at least the rest of the blood didn't seem to be his. Waltz raised his hands and drew a shield around Fritz. A soldier tried to breach it and cursed when he failed. Lucette bit her lip as the others simply rushed back to the palace.

“They might be gathering inside.” Waltz let the barrier fade. “To start a new attack.”

“We have to go, Fritz.” Lucette couldn't tear her eyes away from the lance. “It's too dangerous here.”

Fritz – or whatever had been Fritz once – didn't listen and bound toward the castle door, knocking the men in his way to the side. One of them struck with his sword, cutting out a patch of skin and fur. Fritz yelped and snapped at him. The man rolled to the side and stayed down. Fritz was limping now, but he reached the double door big enough for him to pass through.

“What does he want in there?” She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“I assume Alcaster is in there.”

Lucette shot him an unbelieving look, but Waltz had already followed Fritz, so she hurried to keep up. The soldiers that Fritz had run down still lay in the grass and did not try to stop them. Behind the main gate were the entrance hall and the gallery. Fritz climbed up one of the two curved stairs, careful not to set his right front leg down. Lucette grabbed Waltz' shirt and pointed towards the hallway on the left. More soldiers marched in step – and stopped as Waltz conjured another glowing barrier from one wall to another, locking them in the corridor.

“I don't know how long I can fend them off,” Waltz said.

“You mean...”

“I will stay. You follow Fritz. If anyone can get through to him, it's you.”

Lucette swallowed. Fritz had reached the upper floor, his tail swished around the corner. She ran, passing the steps of the worn carpet she had jumped up and down as a young girl. Only once she turned around to Waltz. For now he had no other opponents coming at him from other directions, but if he did his situation would get critical. She had to hurry.

“Fritz!” she called as she arrived at the floor. “Where are you?”

Shouts came from the hallway to the right and Lucette followed them. She hadn't visited this place often. Father's office was at the end of the corridor, past the rooms assigned to his ministers.

Fritz was still ahead of her, heading straight towards a room guarded by two soldiers. He ignored her when she bumped into him, focusing on the raised swords pointed at him.

“Stay back!” the taller man called.

“You stay back!” Lucette retorted, stepping next to Fritz. “Otherwise the wolf will kill you.”

Both of them kept their eyes glued to Fritz. He growled deeply.

“We cannot let the witches stay in control of Angielle,” the man spoke again. There was no hint of hatred, only determination in his voice.

Fritz leaped towards him. Lucette shut her eyes and only opened them once she heard wood crack. Fritz had run down the door and was now squeezing himself through the opening. As Lucette passed the motionless guards on the ground she caught a glimpse of the metal sign next to the door.  _Sir Alcaster Leverton, Commander of the Order of Caldira, Royal Adviser, Bearer of the..._

She closed the damaged door behind her and quickly placed her hand on it to create a shield. She wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and faced the room. They were in an office framed by tall bookshelves. At its head end were a huge window and a wooden desk. Fritz stood in the center, still lifting his right paw and panting heavily, but with the raised fur of his neck he still appeared intimidating.

Alcaster was in front of his desk. He was not dressed in full armor but held his sword in his hands.

“Who are you?” His voice was as firm and demanding as ever. Fritz answered with a low growl. Alcaster did not move an inch. Lucette bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. He might have usurped the throne, but was there really no other way than to kill him? And by Fritz, of all people.

“Fritz,” she whispered. “He is your father.”

Alcaster frowned, apparently only now aware of her arrival. “What? That is not my son.”

Fritz yowled and flung himself at his father. This time Lucette averted her gaze. Alcaster did not scream. For a few, endless seconds she simply stood there, staring at the bookshelves. A framed picture had been placed on one of them. A white-haired woman looked back at her, a gentle smile on her face. On her lap sat a young boy, dressed like a squire, holding a wooden sword in his hand. He wore a stern expression as if challenging everyone who dared to view the drawing.

Fire licked at the frame and the boy disappeared in black soot. Lucette clasped her hands over her mouth. She had thought she could control her magic.

She had to force herself to look back at Fritz. Alcaster was sprawled out on the floor, his head twisted in an unnatural direction. Blood covered the blue pattern of the carpet, and by now she was starting to believe that she would never be able to see the color red again.

“It's over,” she said.

Fritz nodded and closed his eyes. Then he began to shrink.

A moment she froze in place, unable to speak. By the time she was at his side his fur was gone, given way to blood on light gray clothes and even lighter hair. A piece of the broken lance clattered to the ground and Fritz gave a sharp hiss. His left hand touched the wound on his right shoulder. He blinked a few times, lowered it again and inspected it, making a fist and stretching his fingers. Only then he lifted his head to smile at her. His yellow eyes were so soft that they seemed strange to her.

“You are back.”

He hesitated a moment. “Yes.”

She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “You lifted your curse, Fritz. It didn't work with Mythros, but...”

Fritz reached for his sword at his side. “The boy who cried wolf had to kill his wolf and eliminate the threat. Waltz decided it was Mythros, but...” He looked down at Alcaster. “I wanted to warn everyone,” he murmured. “But I couldn't.”

Lucette clutched her dress and ignored the tight feeling in her chest. “It's over now, Fritz.”

He stayed silent.

“It's over.” She tried to not think of Varg, not now. Instead she took Fritz' unhurt hand.  “You broke your curse. The usurpers are dead, the king can return and Angielle can return to order. Everything can go back to normal.”

“I killed my father.” He sounded almost amused. “Nothing can ever go back to normal.”

His hand was cold. Lucette didn't want to let go, but she also felt ridiculous for clinging on to it.

“Don't say that,” she demanded. “You swore to protect Angielle, and- and you did. They were enemies.”

He pressed his lips together and forced something akin to a smile. “My father, maybe. But no son should kill his father. And Mythros – he was begging for his life, and I still killed him.” The words stumbled out of his mouth, faster and faster. “I wanted to be with you. I didn't care about anything else. I understood it wasn't possible with this body. We couldn't talk. All these nights. I wanted to say so much but you couldn't understand me. Then you wanted to spare Varg. He was human. He could smile and speak and talk with you. I remembered some of your conversations. I was so angry. I can't remember if I killed Mythros to break the curse or if it was out of pure envy. I couldn't have-”

He let go, swayed and touched his head.

“What is wrong?” Lucette reached for his arm. Fritz didn't answer and let his hand fall to his side. His hair had turned black where he had touched it. Lucette couldn't breathe.

“Varg? Not now. This is important.”

“Don't be angry with him, Lucette,” Fritz said. “It was my decision.”

“What was your decision?”

“Varg was the sum of my bad traits. I... Fritz... was the good part that decided to become a murderer.”

He shivered and wrapped his left arm around himself. More and more strands of his hair became black. Darkness seemed to claw its way up his body.

“What are you trying to say? That Varg won?”

Fritz forced a smile to his lips. “I wasn't careful. I became too much like him. Maybe some traces of me will be left. And even if not – don't hate him. He is all that is left.”

“You can't say that. Don't just give up. We can find a solution.”

“Do you promise not to hate him?”

“I don't hate him!” Her vision turned blurry. “But Fritz, you...”

“Thank you.” He took her hands and squeezed them softly. “And don't be scared. I am still here.”

“No.”

  


 

  


“I am still here,” Varg whispered.

She could have lost him and she had him back. She had lost Fritz. She felt like a traitor to Fritz if she let Varg take his place, and also like a traitor if she didn't follow his wish to not hate Varg. And like a traitor to Varg because she couldn't help but to search for traces of Fritz, telling herself that his eyes might be softer than before. As if he wasn't himself.

Varg held her gaze, seeming to search for something himself. “Lucette? You need time, I understand that. But we don't have any right now. We need to leave before someone sees us here.”

She couldn't answer. They were still in Alcaster's office, with the bookshelves and the blood on the carpet. Maybe the soldiers would come.

“I remember everything Fritz said, and most of what happened before that. But we will talk later. We need to save our lives now, do you hear me?”

“And Waltz,” she murmured.

“If we want to save him we would have to take the way through the palace. I doubt we can make it.”

He strode to the window, opened it and peered outside. “There is a ledge leading around the palace. We might be able to jump down from there.”

“We are not leaving without Waltz.”

“This is not the time for heroics, Lucette. This is the time to stay alive.”

“I will not lose anyone from the Marchen. I promised.”

Varg slammed the window shut and scoffed.

“Fritz knew very well that he might die here. He did it anyway, to save Angielle. To become human again. For himself and for you.”

Lucette swallowed.

“Don't even think that I would allow myself to be second to Fritz. I he could do it, I can make it. My cane might be gone but I'm still the better fighter.” Varg went on his knee to pick up Alcaster's sword. “I can only remember parts of what Fritz could do with this, but it will suffice.” He weighted it in his hands, raising an eyebrow. “If the princess orders me to I will fight with my left, blind if I have to. I am ready if you are.”

She straightened her back, moved over to her shield and touched it. The flickering vanished without a trace. Varg grinned at her.

“You are aware that I will not let you get hurt?”

She might have never seen this grin again, and it dawned on her how much she would have missed it.

“Neither will I let you get hurt.”

Varg opened the door.

* * *

They made their way through the corridor without meeting anyone, but at the end of it stood three of Alcaster's men. They unsheathed their swords.   
“Where is Alcaster?” the one closest to them barked.

They did not block the whole way. Lucette waved her hand and let all three disappear behind barriers. “We need to hurry,” she said to Varg. “I doubt the spell will work for long.”

They rushed past the soldiers hammering against their shields to no avail. “Where is Sir Alcaster?” one repeated. He got no answer.

Down in the entrance hall reigned chaos. About half a dozen guards had fallen. The few servants of the palace that hadn't left were busy with the injured. Three more soldiers guarded the entrance.

The second Lucette came into view their leader yelled an order. Two of them took the stairs to their right, the other blocked the path to the left. Lucette stopped at the banister, searching for Waltz between the bodies.

“I will hold them back from here,” Varg said and positioned himself at the stairway. From the way he held his sword Lucette never would have noticed it wasn't his strong side.

“I can't see Waltz,” she uttered. “What if they got to him and locked him away?”

She only saw shining armor and red, so much red. And then, below one of the dead men, she spotted an arm and part of Waltz' green shirt.

Lucette gasped for air.

“Watch out!” Varg shouted behind her.

She spun on her heels. A flame darted towards the soldier who had taken the left stairs. He screamed and scrambled backwards, but he was too slow. His hair caught fire. In his haste to quench the flames he stumbled further back, hit the railing and fell backwards. Then he was gone.

Lucette opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. The stench of burning hair filled the air. She couldn't breathe.

“Get Waltz!” Varg bellowed. “Hurry!”

Varg took his chance as the guards watched her. He kicked one of his opponents' knee, sending him to the ground, then jumped back to dodge the attack of the second. He was holding them off for now. Lucette took several steps at once, her vision dizzy as she hurried past the spot the soldier had fallen down. No one tried to stop her.

She stumbled towards Waltz, grabbed the body above him and rolled it aside. She had touched a corpse. She had killed.

“Waltz,” she whispered. “Please.”

He lay on his side, his eyes closed. The blood she had seen was his.

_No._

Lucette gripped the dead soldier. She couldn't scream, cry or breathe, only stare at Waltz. She had promised not to lose anyone. She had killed someone. She had-

Someone touched her shoulder. It was Varg.

“We need to leave!” he hissed. Lucette stood on her legs, not knowing how she got there.  He had wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the entrance door.

“Did you kill them?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He did not answer. Why did so many people have to die? She hadn't wanted this. Would Hildyr have been happy to see this?

Darkness and the night chill greeted them as they left the castle and descended the flight of steps. The courtyard was like a morgue. Maybe the rest of the soldiers had retreated without Alcaster to guide them. Or so many had died that almost no one was left in the palace. Maybe in all of Angielle. Lucette had murdered one herself.

“It's all right.” Varg stroked her shoulder. “It will be all right.”

They arrived at the main gate without incidents. As they set foot outside the compound shouts got louder. Varg cursed and quickened his pace. Then the arm around her waist was gone.

“Run.”

Lucette turned around to face him. He took his stance in the middle of the street, the sword still in his hand.

“I will keep them back. Run.”

He grinned. The guards had almost caught up.

_No._

A wall of fire raced towards the soldiers. Varg let go of the sword and ducked, shielding his face from the heat with his left hand. He squinted a second, blew a strand of hair out of his face and grabbed Lucette's hand.

They hurried down the road towards the Marchen.

“Well done,” he said, still not letting go. “We will be safe soon. You did everything right. The end justifies the means.”

It was the attitude that had taken Fritz from her. And Varg was still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: critique is appreciated!
> 
> If I hadn't read several Dicesuki Asks which stated that there was no option to have both of them live I would have liked for them to split. Alas...
> 
> Also I feel awful for Waltz. Still, we didn't want to stray too far from the feeling of Fritz' Route.


	14. Snow-White and Rose-Red

They reached the Marchen at dawn. She had half expected to find nothing left of the Marchen, but it still stood, dark and seemingly abandoned. The windows had been nailed up with old planks, the entrance was barred with a makeshift door made from more wood.

Lucette hesitated in front of it and flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Varg stepped next to her.

“If they had time to build this they most likely weren't attacked. They must have found a safe place to hide.”

“But where?”

Both jumped when something bumped against the door from the inside.

Varg hastily checked the area for something that could be used as a weapon but Lucette grabbed his wrist.

“Wait. Listen.”

There was a sweeping sound.  

“Mr. Broom?”

Two more knocks.

It really was him, carrying a small note with an address around his handle, right beneath his ribbon. Lucette read it and handed it over to Varg. She watched as Mr. Broom hopped back to his place in a corner.

“Will we come back?”

“Of course. I am sorely missing my broom chamber.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, took the note from her and tore it into tiny pieces. “We better destroy all evidence. Let's go.”

* * *

The house belonged to a woman who had, with Parfait's help, broken her curse a few years ago. They were allowed to stay in the cellar with stairs that led to a fenced-in backyard.

Including Varg and Lucette they were eight people in a tiny room. Annice and Rumpel had used several blankets and a clothesline to create a small separated space for Garlan and Parfait.

They would have been nine with Waltz. Lucette couldn't even remember who had told the others, Varg or her. She only remembered that Delora had quickly turned away and Jurien had asked “How?”, immediately apologized afterwards and said that she didn't need an answer.

The first day she spent nodding off on her makeshift bed. She was dead tired from the recent nights without any sleep; nevertheless she jolted awake just as often after dreaming of the man she had killed. After the third or fourth time her gaze fell on Varg who had huddled up next to her.

His right arm had been bandaged and rested on his lap. He looked so innocent when he slept. She could not tear her gaze away.

“The sleep of the just,” Delora whispered behind her. Lucette sat up and leaned her back against the wall.

“Strange to call him just. He killed people. Both of us have.”

Delora put her arm around Lucette's shoulder. “You wanted to protect your friends and Angielle. Don't blame yourself, Lucette.”

“Did you ever kill someone, Delora?” She had to ask.

Delora didn't answer immediately. “If I had been in your situation I would have.”

But she had not been in her situation.

“I noticed that I didn't even thank Waltz.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said he would stay back to give us more time. I didn't even consider that it might be dangerous for him.”

“You are alive,” Delora retorted. “I knew him well. To know that you are all right would have been  enough.”

Her words could not change that he was gone. Lucette watched Varg who shifted in his dreams. His blanket had slipped off. She stretched out her hand to cover him with it. She froze as tears burned in her eyes.

“It's okay.” Delora softly pulled her into her arms and stroked over her hair. “It's okay.”

* * *

The following days blurred into each other. The cellar was cramped but no one dared to leave. Their host had pleaded with them to stay inside out of fear that the soldiers would find them. Everyone looked forward to the food she brought twice a day, less because of the food itself that rarely sufficed for seven people, more because it was their only chance to get news of the outside world.

Alcaster's death had caused arguments about the next leader of the Order. At least two men wanted the title. The commoners were not happy with the change in leadership of the country within two weeks, and while Alcaster had at least been held with some esteem none of his successors could proclaim the same. More and more people wanted Genaro back.

“We sent word to Brugantia,” Delora said. “Maybe Genaro is already on his way back if he heard of this before he got our letter.”

“He is the only one who can restore order,” Garlan mumbled. He sat up with the help of Jurien.

Delora nodded. “We can only hope that he will arrive soon.”

Lucette pressed her lips together. “As long as there is no civil war.”

“Don't be foolish. It won't come to that,” Varg said. “Your father will be back soon, so don't think about this. If you continue frowning you might get wrinkles. Besides, moping doesn't fit you.”

She breathed and touched his hand. He responded by brushing his thumb across hers. She blushed while the others averted their eyes. There was no room for intimacy. Everything beyond this would have been too much. Perhaps irreverent, too.

* * *

Parfait slept most of the week away and stayed quiet even when awake. So far Lucette had not dared to ask whether her condition had only recently taken a turn for the worse.

She had not seen Parfait for at least two weeks. Now she rested in the furthest corner, covered by two blankets that seemed to swallow her whole. Her face was sunken in and paler than ever before, her hair was tousled and dull.

Lucette's first look in the morning went to her, making sure that she was still there. Her second went to Varg who always curled up next to her, turning out to be a late riser. At least he appeared to be healing well.

Garlan's wound to the head had not just caused a concussion but also upset his sense of balance. He was bedridden for now and shot unhappy glances at Jurien who simply shook her head every time. One morning Lucette used her chance while she was seated next to Rumpel and Garlan snored in his corner. She lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Will his condition improve?” The answer was written on his face.

“Maybe I can help with magic.”

The corners of his mouth turned into a small smile. “We can try. Delora told me that very few can use magic to heal others, but by now I am convinced that you can do almost everything.”

“I will try.”

She had to prove that magic could do more than just destroy. Since the day Waltz had died she had not set anything on fire. She practiced conjuring barriers with some help from Varg, who leaned against the outside of the backyard door and tried to push it open while she kept the barrier upright.

Some nights she dreamed of fire.

* * *

It was the eighth day they spent in the cellar. Lucette and Varg were busy preparing the supper. Lucette studied him as he cut the bread. The time when she would have been prying the knife from his hand felt like a lifetime ago. His eyes shot up and she felt her face grow hot. Yet again he had caught her staring. At least he showed her mercy and did not comment on it, though his eyes could not hide the amusement. If he was trying to hide it.

“I wonder how the situation up there is unfolding,” he said.

“I am surprised you haven't left yet to find out for yourself.”  _Or simply leave._

Varg sighed. “About the only thing that would make me leave is you trying to put a leash on me again. Fly with the crows, get shot with the crows. Also, do you still believe that I would betray you?”

She shook her head.

“You love these people. And I happen to love you. Loyalty is a strange concept, but quite nice once you get used to it.”

She smiled. He let the knife clatter to the ground and pointed his finger at her.

“There! You smiled!”

“I did not.”

“Really now? I saw it with my own eyes-”

“Lucette?”

They fell silent. Annice bent down and picked up the knife, regarding it as if it was more interesting than anything else she had ever seen. Her eyes seemed glassy.

“I'm sorry. Parfait wants to talk to you.”

She exchanged glances with Varg. “Thank you,” she murmured and took the few steps toward the separated section. The blankets hanging from the ceiling really did make it seem like entering another place. Garlan lay on his side, snoring almost inaudibly. Parfait was leaning on her pillows, doing her best to sit, resting her arms on top of the blanket. Every bone of her hand was visible.

“Lucette.” Parfait gave her a weak but genuine smile. “I am glad you came.”

“Of course I did.” Lucette knelt down on the floor next to her. “How are you?”

“I fear about as well as I look. There is something you should know before I die, Lucette. Hush, don't interrupt me. Simply listen.”

Lucette swallowed and nodded.

“Perhaps you already know that your mother and I used to be friends. Very close ones, in fact. Still I couldn't prevent her from slipping into the darkness. I should have seen what the Tenebrarum did to her. I apologize, Lucette. Her death is my fault.”

“No,” Lucette objected. “I am sure you tried everything to prevent this. You are not at fault.”

Parfait softly shook her head. “I killed her.”

“Alcaster killed her.”

“Alcaster...” Parfait broke off as a cough shook her. Her next words came out faster and faster, as if she feared that her voice would fail at any moment.

“I knew that Alcaster wanted to kill her. But Hildyr's defensive magic was too strong and he had no magic, so I offered him my help. A spell cast onto his sword, allowing him to cut through Hildyr's shield. He accepted. I knew he would usurp the throne afterwards, and I wanted to avert it. The sword was enchanted so that it would turn on him the moment Hildyr died. I was too weak, however, so he didn't die, and I did not have enough strength left for another attack.”

Lucette stared at her.

“I am sorry,” Parfait whispered.

She knew she was supposed to say something but her mouth was dry. “No.” She grasped for words.  “Someone had to stop Mother. Alcaster is gone. Angielle is free. It's alright, Parfait.”

Parfait's lips twitched. Her eyes fell shut.

“Parfait?”

She did not react when Lucette touched her hand.

“You can't go like that! Someone, help!”

Steps neared from behind, the blankets rustled. Someone grabbed Lucette's shoulder, pulled her to her legs and hugged her.

“I'm here,” Varg said. “It's okay. Everything's okay.”

Lucette could hear the rustling of bed sheets. The silence afterwards was deafening.

“She is alive,” Rumpel announced. “But she needs to rest.”

“We should go,” Varg said quietly. He put his arm around her shoulder and led her away.

Lucette couldn't stop the sobs from escaping her. She dug her nails into his jacket, wishing she could say something, anything, but nothing came out.

“Ssh,” Varg hushed her, apparently just as lost for words as her.

It took a few moments to collect herself. “Will she be okay?”

Fritz would have said Yes. Varg just looked at her and pulled her close so no one would see her cry.

* * *

Parfait died in the early hours of the following day without having regained consciousness. Two hours later their host came down the stairs, louder than usual. The king was back and would arrive with a procession in the afternoon.

No one said a word. Somehow Lucette's hand found its way to Varg's knee; he put it between his hands. They almost jumped when Delora clapped her hands.

“What's with these faces? Parfait would say that we better got out of here and watch the parade. The king is back.”

They decided to depart after lunch. To mark the occasion their hostess gave them a few more potatoes than usual. She could not hide the fact that she was glad to see them go. No one held it against her.

Garlan still felt too weak to join them, but he was able to convince Jurien to greet the king so that at least one of them would remember this day.

Lucette looked to her right. Delora had changed her usual gold and purple outfit into that of a simple commoner, albeit only reluctantly.

The streets were more colorful than usual, decorated with garlands, people had hung Angielle's flags from their windows. It felt a bit like drowning in a sea of people wearing their finest Sunday dresses. There was no room for stopping, the crowd pushed them forward towards the main road. She gasped as someone bumped into her and pressed herself to the nearest wall. She didn't want to lose the others. In her haste she missed a shallow step and stumbled. Varg caught her before she fell, an irritated expression on his face.

“What are you doing?”

Lucette shook her head. “For some reason I believed that the town had changed after all that happened.”

“I wonder how much they even noticed.” He held her around her waist now, leading her along.

Delora, Jurien, Rumpel and Annice were a a few steps ahead of them. A juggler stood in front of a fountain, surrounded by children. Annice giggled and pointed at him.

Varg leaned closer. “You feel like you don't belong here, am I correct?”

She wanted to answer neither yes nor no. As usual he seemed to read her mind.

“Look, princess. You haven't changed. At least not for the worse. You might not believe it now, but trust me for once.”

“Things have changed,” she replied. “Waltz is dead. Fritz is... gone.”

“I don't want to deny that things have changed, Lucette. I was talking about you. You are still you.”

He nodded towards the street, the women eagerly wrapping colorful strips of paper around a tree. The juggler let one of the balls fall to the ground and several children fought over it. Annice tried to pull Rumpel away who was engrossed in a conversation with what seemed to be a former patient of his.

“Whether you believe me or not right now – you belong here.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He grinned. “Not long ago I was the same. I despised people having fun and friends and all of that nonsense. At some point I noticed it was envy. Stalking around at night when people slept or hid from the bad wolf who in the end was nothing more than a chained dog obeying orders from others. I believed there was no alternative. That this world wasn't mine.”

He tugged at his blue shirt that he must have borrowed from someone.

“But that's enough sentimentalism for today.”

Delora called out to them, though her words got drowned by the noise around them. He shot her a small smile and followed Delora.

“Varg,” Lucette said. “When did you start belonging here?”

His answer was immediate. “When I wanted to.”

* * *

Fences had been positioned along the main road. There were already so many onlookers that they had no chance to find a good spot. They ended up close to a house wall and it fell to Rumpel as the tallest one to peer over the crowd.

“They are coming!” he announced, balancing on his toes. “Three soldiers from the Order of Caldira are riding in front, one of them has...”

The bare of a trumpet caused Lucette and Annice to flinch.

“A trumpet. And behind him is the king!”

“Is the rest of the family with him?” Delora asked.

“I assume they are in the carriage behind him. There are a lot of soldiers.”

“Probably the royalist wing of the Order,” Jurien murmured. “Not loyal enough to act against Alcaster. Though it seems to have been enough to seize the opportunity and pledge themselves to His Majesty.”

Delora laughed. “Not everyone can be starry-eyed idealists like you and Garlan. We should be glad it turned out like this.”

Out of nowhere she held a bouquet of flowers in her hands and handed a few to Lucette. “If you want to throw something at your father.”

Right now all Lucette would hit were the people in front of her. She made a face.

“I can lift you up,” Varg said and tilted his head.

“You cannot.”

He scoffed and crouched down demonstratively. “Distrustful as ever. I certainly won't stand in your way should you want to throw objects.”

Lucette hesitated. Delora smirked while Jurien inspected the flowers in her hand, slightly at a loss. No one really paid attention to her. Lucette pursed her lips and stuffed the flowers into the neckline of her dress. The next moment she gasped as she found herself being lifted and clung to Varg's shoulders for support. From up here she could view the sea of cheering people. Maybe she could throw the flowers from here. Genaro was only a few feet away. He waved to the crowd with a smile on his face. When he spotted Lucette his eyes went wide.

“Lucette!”

Heads turned towards her. Her cheeks burned.

  


“You should ride with us,” Genaro called and steadied his horse. “Or ride in the carriage. I heard what you have done for Angielle.”

He had never looked with so much pride at her. Did he know that she had killed at least one of his subjects? Her hand holding the flowers sweated. The people around her started to whisper.

_Ice Princess. The werewolf. Fights in the palace._

“Thank you, father. Maybe another time.”

His smile wavered. The riders behind him pushed him forward, so he urged his horse on and rode off. He raised his hand and waved again and Lucette knew it was for her. People were talking. A few might have changed their views regarding the ice princess, but their distrust of witches certainly didn't soften after the incidents with the wolf.

“I would have done the same,” Varg interrupted her thoughts. “It must be tiresome to wave for hours.”

“Yes,” she answered. Angielle did not need a king who dealt with witches and other shady lowlifes, at least not before feelings had calmed down.

Angielle needed a king one could worship wholeheartedly.

* * *

They were about to head back when Karma arrived, along with a message from the king. He would be expecting her at the palace once she was ready. She was glad that he didn't rush her.

Annice suggested to stop at the Marchen.

The guest room and the street in front of it were still covered with shards of glass. Tables and chairs were upturned and deep scratches showed where the furniture had been moved. The boards near the windows had a huge black burn mark. Someone must have entered the Marchen as both pantry and the bar counter had been raided. As soon as Annice had calmed down a little she called everyone to help her cleanup-campaign.

Rumpel and Karma argued about the medical and cosmetic functions of honey and ended up contributing little until Delora threatened to turn them into toads. When Varg suggested that in order to turn back into humans they would have to kiss each other they almost stumbled over each other in order to help. That probably earned him some points with Delora. Lucette was glad that at least some things never changed, and it was good to be distracted. Varg surprised all of them when he entered the broom closet and returned with his old cane in his hand. He refused to answer how long it had been there.

Within two hours the Marchen was in a much better state than before. Annice, Rumpel and Karma were taking a break, for once in complete silence. Varg was nowhere to be seen. Lucette stood at the  end of the stairs, looking up. She had to go there, sooner or later.

Someone had opened all the doors and windows. Whoever had taken the food had not touched anything on the upper floor. Even though the weather was warm she shivered when a soft wind blew through the hallway. Neither Waltz nor Parfait would come here again.

She hesitated before she entered Waltz's room. It was just like she remembered it. On a cupboard sat his dolls, their lifeless eyes directed at nothing in particular. Lucette stepped over to them, taking each one in her hands. A crocodile, a bandit, an old man, a child, another crocodile, a king, a princess. The princess had a carefully done side braid and a wide smile on her face. Lucette blinked away her tears and put the princess into her bag.

“Here you are.”

Delora leaned against the door frame, her lips curled into a smile.

“What happens to the puppets?” Lucette asked.

“We will give them away. Waltz used to say they only live if someone plays with them. But you can keep the princess if you want.”

Lucette nodded, letting her gaze wander through the room.

“Do you know what will happen to the Marchen, Delora?”

“Well, it was a venue for those who were cursed. I hope that some of our patrons will return once witches aren't persecuted any longer. I will see to it that it will stay open until there are no people with curses left.”

“I will help,” Lucette said. “Somehow.”

Delora's voice sounded warm when she spoke. “Together we will make it.”

Lucette shifted her weight, eager to change the topic. “Who is the bearer of the Lucis now?”

“Parfait's niece will take care of it. She sent a letter before she passed. I assume she already is on her way.”

“Do you know her?”

“No. Parfait was sure you would get along, however. Just like her and your mother had.”

She had not thought of her mother for a long time. “I hope we can work together. But I am not like Hildyr.”

“No,” Delora answered. “If I ever had any doubts, you removed all of them.”

* * *

 

* * *

In the evening Jurien finally returned with Garlan in tow. It was obvious he would have to stay in Rumpel's care for quite some time. Talks about what Jurien would do in the meantime ended up in a minor squabble, as Jurien refused to leave the town for a guard position. She did not say it, but it was clear she didn't want to leave Garlan behind. No one mentioned the Order of Caldira. Lucette would wait before she offered her – and hopefully Garlan, too – to rejoin.

Karma declined his invitation back to the palace, stating that he had spent enough time with the royal family for now.

In the end it was just her and Varg who arrived at the castle. The mood was as strange as she had feared. The guards at the gate saluted when they saw her, all servants stopped in their tracks to bow. No one smiled. As soon as Lucette entered the entrance hall all conversations around her faded and the maids scrubbed the floor in awkward silence.

The only one who seemed overjoyed to see her was Genaro.

“Lucette!” he beamed. “You are home.”

She wanted to tell him what had occurred in this place the night that Fritz and Waltz died. Nothing here indicated the blood and the noise from back then, however, and she could not bring herself to destroy Genaro's smile.

* * *

Life at the palace had returned to normal much faster than Lucette had anticipated. Varg had taken the role of her personal guard, which had been met with surprise and irritation among the palace guards. Varg did not seem to care. Genaro had eyed him with a hint of suspicion as well, though so far he had not mentioned anything to her. Part of her hoped he didn't remember.

She still avoided the entrance hall when possible, taking other routes through the palace. The upside was that she started to know more about her home – and one day she came across Varg and the new head guard deeply engrossed in a discussion about magical potions, curses and how to spot and avoid them. Both only nodded to her before resuming their conversation. It made sense that Varg would be their adviser in these matters. She wondered if they could find a way to prevent people from being cursed.

* * *

 

The only thing that had been changed in her bedroom was her cupboard. Lucette had decided to place Waltz's princess next to her dolls. She was doing well up there, as if she had always belonged there.

A week after Genaro's return he invited numerous dignitaries to a festive banquet, including the whole former court that had split after his disappearance. It was important to reestablish alliances, according to him.

Lucette wore one of her formal dresses, one she had not worn much in the days before everyone had forgotten her. The maid who had helped her into it was gone to search for the fitting jewelry.

She sat in front of her vanity mirror and undid her braid for the third time. Neither her hair nor her fingers wanted to obey her. She had never liked to converse with the lords and ladies at the banquet. She almost wished she had paid more attention to the guests in the past. There was no way to know what would happen once these people met her.

“Shouldn't you have learned to braid your own hair by now?” Varg asked from behind her. He was leaning on the wall, twirling his cane.

Lucette shot him a sullen glare through the mirror. “Usually I don't care if a few strands sticking out, but today is an important gathering.”

He pushed himself off the wall and threw his cane onto the bed. “Care to let me see?”

“You can braid?”

“Certainly can't hurt to try, no?”

She raised an eyebrow but let her hands sink. Varg removed a hair clip and smoothed down her hair.

“Back to being a real princess from now on, huh?”

Lucette sighed. “Yes. I have to look presentable. I need to know the guests' names. I never had a good memory for names.”

“I do. Let me assist you.”

“Really? Who is the bearer of the order of merit Father invited as a honorary guest for today?”

“Lord Bonwick,” Varg answered. “Though I heard the ladies like to call him Lord Longwick.”

“What?”

He met her gaze and his smile widened ever so slightly. She bit her lip.

“Don't tell me this nonsense. I already confuse their names as it is. If I accidentally call him that tonight it will turn into a scandal.”

“Disastrous. Lady Smallhill and Miss Tanglewood would never forgive you. Lord Longwick might even put an end to the dispute with Lord Shortaxe. You should know that there was a lengthy rift between them.” Varg sneered and leaned forward. She could feel his warmth at her back. “I would love you just for that alone.”

She tried her best to be angry. “My reputation has suffered enough. I was called the ice princess. Now I probably am the chaos princess with the big bad wolf.”

Varg softly brushed the hair away from her neck. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Don't stew over it too much.” It seemed like he wasn't very concentrated, as he parted her hair into three strands and positioned them randomly over each other. “After all I have heard most of the guests are keen on leaving the Alcaster incident behind them. They are still competing for Genaro's favor, and he made his stance towards you well known. Well, they do pity that you are still incapable of smiling, but-”

“Varg,” Lucette interrupted him. “What are you doing?”

He pressed something that resembled a torn sausage to the side of her head. “Pleasure to help.”

Lucette snatched the braid from his hand and untangled it. “Let me do that.”

“Hey, you would have been the eye catcher of the banquet. I call it the  _plucked chicken_.”

“You are not helping.” With practiced movements she started again.

“At least you know what you could be looking like and are content with less.”

“I told you that I need to be presentable.”

“You always are,” Varg retorted, watching her with a raised brow. “And with your unrivaled charm and politeness you will twist them around your little finger.”

“Provided I don't meet Lord Longwick.”

“But he his nothing compared to Earl Slammingham.”

“Varg!”

“Pardon? He is the one who never dares to speak his mind in meetings and then continues to gorge down as much ham as loudly as he can once the banquet begins. What were you thinking?”

She did not answer, proceeding to brush her hair on the other side and ding her best to get her twitching lips under control. Varg leaned over her shoulder.

“Are you laughing, princess?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I'm sure Earl Slammingham would approve.”

Lucette burst into laughter, letting the brush fall to the floor. Varg picked it up and grinned at her.

“You laughed. This time you can't feign an excuse.”

She touched her cheek. “Varg, there is something strange on my face. I believe I need a doctor.”

“I am a doctor and have to tell you it's incurable.”

  


She turned around and intertwined her fingers with his. “I am glad you are here.”

“And I will stay,” Varg said. “As long as you want me to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s done. If anyone has read everything: Wow, thank you. All of this started thanks to two Halsey songs and a drawing and continued because of everyone who was interested in this AU :D We never expected so many comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want you can tell us what you thought. Constructive criticism is always welcome, as well as your opinions of how this route turned out to be. The second curse surely changed a lot.
> 
> Anyway, this is it for now. I will focus on drawing more and writing a dark(er) fanfiction completely on my own. A What-If story about Lucette if she had never been cursed and continued Hildyr's reign.
> 
> So, until then!


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